UC-NRLF 


fll2 


THE 


PEACE    MANUAL: 


WAR  AND  ITS  REMEDIES. 


BY  GEO.  C.  BECKWITH. 


BOS  TO  N. 
AMERICAN  PEACE  SOCIETY. 

1847. 


PREFACE. 

. 



THIS  little  work  is  designed  to  furnish  the  most  important 
facts,  arguments  and  explanations,  on  the  main  topics  em 
braced  in  the  cause  of  peace.  I  hope  it  will  suffice  for  the 
satisfaction  of  most  minds ;  and  those  who  wish  for  something 
fuller  or  more  thorough,  can  resort  to  the  larger  publications 
on  Peace  by  the  American  Peace  Society,  such  as  its  Prize 
Essays  on  a  Congress  of  Nations^  a  splendid  octavo  of  more 
than  700  pages,  and  its  Book  of  Peace,  containing  in  smaller 
compass  still  more  matter  from  some  of  the  ablest  pens  that 
ever  wrote,  and  altogether  the  best  thesaurus  or  encyclope 
dia  of  information  on  Peace  that  can  be  found  in  the  English 
or  any  other  language. 

1  flatter  myself  that  nearly  every  position  taken  in  these 
pages,  will  secure  the  concurrence  of  all  fair  minds.  I  have 
sought  with  special  care  to  present  those  aspects  of  the  sub 
ject  which  I  think  best  fitted  to  awaken  a  practical  interest 
in  the  cause  I  plead,  and  to  unite  all  good  men  in  efforts  for 
the  abolition  of  war.  For  extracts  from  others,  due  credit 
is  given,  but  none  of  oeurse  for  anything  taken  from  my 
own  writings. 

The  cause  of  peace  aims  solely  to  do  away  the  custom  of 
international  war ;  and  I  trust  there  will  be  found  in  this 
book  nothing  that  does  not  bear  on  this  object,  nor  anything 
that  interferes  with  the  legitimate  authority  of  government. 
As  a  friend  of  peace,  I  am  of  course  a  supporter  of  civil  gov 
ernment,  with  all  the  powers  requisite  for  the  condign  pun 
ishment  of  wrong-doers,  the  enforcement  of  law,  and  the 
preservation  of  social  order.  I  deem  government,  in  spite 
of  its  worst  abuses,  an  ordinance  of  God  for  the  good  of  man 
kind  ;  nor  can  I,  as  a  peace  man,  hold  any  doctrines  incompat 
ible  in  my  view  with  its  just  and  necessary  powers  over  its 
own  subjects.  I  condemn  only  THE  GREAT  DUEL  OF  NATIONS. 

769782 


CONTENTS. 

—— 

INTRODUCTION,   ..... 


PART    I. 
PHYSICAL  EVILS  OF  WAR. 

CHAPTER  I.—  WASTE  OF  PROPERTY  BY  WAR,    ....  21 

II.  —  Loss  OF  LIFE  BY  WAR,  ......  33 

III.  —  PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR,       ...  43 
SECTION  i.  —  General  Treatment  of  Warriors,   ....  43 

n.  —  Military  Punishments,     ......  47 

in.  —  Marches,  .........  55 

iv.—  Sieges,  .........  60 

v._  Battles  ..........  68 

vi.—  Hospitals,  or  Treatment  of  the  Sick  and  Wounded,  75 

IV.  —  SOCIAL  AND  DOMESTIC  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR,  82 
V.  —  A  FEW  SKETCHES  OF  THE  HORRORS  OF  WAR,  .  98 

PART   II. 
MORAL  EVILS  OF  WAR. 

CHAPTER  I.—  MORAL  ELEMENTS  OF  WAR,         .       .        .        .107 

II.—  CAUSES  OF  WAR,    .......  120 

III.—  THE  VICES  AND  CRIMES  OF  WAR,       .        .        .124 

IV.  —  WAR  VIEWED  IN  THE  LIGHT  OF  NATURE,          .  134 

V.  —  WAR  VIEWED  IN  THE  LIGHT  OF  REVELATION,  .  138 

SECTION  i.  —  General  Contrariety  of  War  to  Revealed  Religion,  138 

ii.—  War  and  the  Old  Testament,  .....  140 

in.  —  War  and  the  New  Testament  ......  147 

iv.—  Difficulties  from  the  New  Testament,   .        .        .  155 

v.—  Early  Christians  on  War,       .....  162 

VI.  —  MALIGN  MORAL  INFLUENCES  OF  WAR,          .        .  167 

SECTION  i.  —  Upon  Individual  and  Social  Character,         .        .  167 

II.  —  Upon  Social  Institutions,         .....  178 

m.—  Upon  the  Enterprises  of  Christian  Benevolence,  .  187 
iv.—  On  the  Salvation  of  Mankind,        .        .        .        .195 

PART    III. 
REMEDIES  FOR  WAR. 

CHAPTER  I.—  THE  SUPPORTS  OF  WAR  ......  201 

SECTION  i.—  Pleas  in  Favor  of  War  .......  201 

ii.—  Influences  that  still  Support  the  Custom  of  War,  212 
II.  —  PRACTICABILITY  OF  PEACE,  OR  THE  EVILS  OF  WAR 

NOT  INCURABLE,    .......  221 

III.  —  SUBSTITUTES  FOR  WAR  ......  229 

SECTION  i.  —  Temporary  Substitutes  for  War4    ....  230 

n.  —  Permanent  Substitutes  for  War,    ....  232 

IV.  —  CONCLUDING  APPEALS,     ...               .  244 


INTRODUCTION. 


PEACE  is  no  new  theme.  Ancient  prophets  fore 
told  it  as  one  of  the  peculiar  glories  of  Messiah's 
reign ;  and  the  angels,  sent  to  announce  his  advent, 
sang  over  his  manger-cradle,  Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest  and  on  earth  PEACE,  good  will  to  men ! 
Peace  was  thus  the  birth-song  of  Christianity  ;  and 
its  principles,  fully  embodied  by  our  Saviour  in  his 
sermon  on  the  mount,  and  thickly  scattered  through 
the  New  Testament,  were  so  strictly  put  in  prac 
tice  by  the  early  Christians,  that  not  a  few  of  them 
went  to  the  stake  rather  than  bear  arms.  The 
church,  however,  relapsed  into  a  deep,  protracted 
degeneracy  on  this  subject,  as  on  many  others  ;  and 
for  more  than  a  thousand  years  after  her  fatal  union 
with  the  state  under  Constantino  in  the  fourth  cen 
tury,  did  she  lend  her  sanction  to  the  custom  of  war 
with  scarce  a  thought  of  its  glaring  contrariety  to 
her  religion  of  peace.  Still  she  was  not  entirely 
without  witnesses  on  this  point ;  for  the  Waldenses 
bore  their  testimony  in  the  very  midnight  of  the 
dark  ages,  and  Erasmus,  the  day-star  of  the  Refor 
mation  and  of  Modern  Literature,  wrote  in  behalf 
of  peace  with  an  eloquence  worthy  of  the  first 
scholar  of  the  world.  We  know  too  well  how  little 
his  voice  was  heeded  by  the  warring  Christians  of 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

that  age  ;  but  the  seed  sown  by  his  hand  has  begun, 
in  the  present  century,  to  spring  up  more  or  less 
among  Christians  of  every  name,  and  to  promise  in 
due  time  a  rich  and  glorious  harvest. 

Every  one  knows  the  noble  testimonies  borne 
ugiinst  lY-ir.  by  Oeurge  Fox,  William  Penn,  and 
their  followers  for  the  last  two  centuries ;  but  it  was 
not  till  ne^r  -the.  downfaU  of  Napoleon,  and  the  con 
sequent-  pac-iiieation  of  Europe,  that  any  general  or 
effective  efforts  were  made  for  the  specific  purpose 
of  abolishing  this  custom.  DAVID  L.  DODGE,  a  pious, 
philanthropic  merchant  of  New-York,  was  the  real 
pioneer  of  these  efforts  in  America.  Pie  began  his 
labors  before  the  commencement,  in  1812,  of  our  last 
war  with  England,  but  delayed  any  formal  public 
organization  until  several  months  after  the  close  of 
that  war,  when  in  August,  1815,  there  was  formed 
in  the  city  of  New-York  the  first  Peace  Society  of 
modern  times.  The  first  effectual  appeal  to  the  pub 
lic  at  large,  howevcy,  was  made  by  NOAH  WORCES 
TER  in  his  Solemn  Review  of  the  Custom  of  TT^r,  pub 
lished  in  December,  1814,  and  followed  the  next 
December  by  the  Massachusetts  Peace  Society,  and 
by  the  London  Peace  Society  in  June,  1816;  soci 
eties  that  ever  since  have  in  one  form  or  another 
sustained  the  cause  through  the  world.  This  con 
cert  among  the  friends  of  peace  in  the  two  hemis 
pheres,  was  without  any  knowledge  at  the  time  of 
each  other's  movements  or  designs,  and  thus  gave 
striking  proof  that  the  hand  of  an  all-controlling 
providence  was  at  work  to  call  forth  and  concentrate 
the  benevolent  energies  of  Christendom  for  the  re 
moval  of  this  terrible  scourge.  Similar  societies 
were  in  time  multiplied.  The  American  Peace 
Society,  as  a  bond  of  union  among  the  friends  of 
peace  through  the  United  States,  was  organized  in 
1828  under  the  auspices  of  its  venerable  founder, 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

WILLIAM  LADD;  and  kindred  efforts  have  been 
made,  not  only  in  various  parts  of  the  British  em 
pire,  but  in  France,  Switzerland,  and  other  portions 
of  Christendom. 

The  object  of  this  movement  should  be  distinctly 
understood  at  the  outset.  It  aims  merely  to  abolish 
the  specific,  well-defined  custom  of  international  war. 
All  the  relations  among  men  may  be  resolved  into 
the  relation  of  individuals  to  one  another,  the  rela 
tion  of  individuals  to  society  or  government,  and  the 
relation  of  one  society  or  government  to  another. 
The  principles  of  peace  may  be  applicable,  more  or 
less,  to  all  these  relations  ;  but  the  cause  of  peace  is 
restricted  to  the  latter  class,  those  between  govern 
ments  alone,  and  aims  solely  at  such  an  application 
of  the  gospel  to  the  intercourse  of  nations,  as  shall 
put  an  end  to  the  practice  of  settling  their  disputes 
by  the  sword.  When  this  shall  have  been  accom 
plished,  a  vast  deal  more  will  doubtless  remain  to 
be  done ;  but  the  associated  friends  of  peace  will 
then  have  fulfilled  their  specific  mission. 

This  view  of  peace  relieves  it  from  a  variety  of 
extraneous  questions.  If  our  only  province  is  the 
intercourse  of  nations,  and  our  sole  object  the  aboli 
tion  of  war  between  them,  then  have  we  nothing  to 
do  with  capital  punishments,  or  the  right  of  personal 
self-defence,  or  the  strict  inviolability  of  human  life, 
or  the  question  whether  the  gospel  allows  the  appli 
cation  of  physical  force  to  the  government  of  states, 
schools  and  families.  All  these  are  grave  ques 
tions,  but  come  not  within  our  province.  We  go 
merely  against  war ;  and  war  is  defined  by  our  best 
lexicographers  to  be  "  a  contest  by  force  between 
nations."  It  is  such  a  conflict  between  governments 
alone ;  and  hence,  neither  a  parent  chastising  his 
child,  nor  a  teacher  punishing  his  pupil,  nor  a  father 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

defending  his  family  against  a  midnight  assassin,  nor 
a  traveller  resisting  by  force  a  highway  robber,  nor  a 
ruler  inflicting  the  penalties  of  law  upon  a  sentenced 
criminal,  can  properly  be  called  war,  because  the  par 
ties  are  not  nations  alone,  but  either  individuals,  or 
individuals  and  government.  The  cause  of  peace  is 
not  encumbered  with  such  cases,  but  confines  itself 
to  the  single  purpose  of  abolishing  the  custom  of  war. 

For  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose,  there  is 
need  of  specific,  associated  efforts.  The  object  itself 
is  sufficiently  distinct ;  as  much  so  as  that  of  tem 
perance,  or  missions,  or  any  other  benevolent  enter 
prise.  It  is,  also,  important  enough  to  justify  and 
require  such  efforts.  It  is  tributary  to  the  highest 
interests  of  mankind,  fraught  with  the  weal  or  the 
woe  of  our  whole  race  for  time  and  eternity.  It  is 
difficult  to  conceive  an  enterprise  aiming  to  prevent 
more  evil,  or  to  secure  a  greater  amount  of  good ; 
and  surely  an  object  so  immeasuraby  important 
may  rightly  demand  the  special,  associated  efforts 
of  good  men.  In  no  other  way  can  it  ever  be  accom 
plished  ;  for  the  evil  will  no  more  cure  itself  than 
would  the  slave-trade,  or  intemperance,  or  paganism, 
or  any  other  evil  wrought  into  the  web  and  woof 
of  a  world's  habits  for  five  thousand  years.  A  delu 
sion  so  long  cherished,  and  fortified  by  so  many  and 
so  powerful  influences,  can  be  dislodged  from  the 
general  mind  only  by  specific,  concentrated  and 
long  continued  efforts.  The  evil  itself  is  specific  ; 
Christianity  has  provided  a  specific  remedy  ;  and  of 
this  remedy,  Christians  must  make  a  direct,  specific 
application,  before  the  y  can  expect  a  thorough  cure 
of  the  war-gangrene  festering  for  so  many  ages  on 
the  bosom  of  universal  humanity.  We  need  this 
reform,  also,  to  clear  the  skirts  of  Christians  them- 
selves  from  the  guilt  of  war,  to  exhibit  our  religion 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

of  peace  in  its  original  purity,  and  thus  pave  the  way 
for  the  world's  speedy  conversion  ;  nor  can  we  doubt 
that  the  extinction  of  war  through  Christendom 
would  operate  as  life  from  the  dead  to  the  church, 
and  prove  the  harbinger  of  her  millennial  triumphs 
and  glories. 

This  cause,  moreover,  requires  the  cordial  union 
of  all  its  friends.  They  all  believe  that  war  ought 
to  be  abolished,  but  reach  this  conclusion  by  diffe 
rent  modes  of  reasoning.  A  very  few  assert  the 
unlawfulness  of  all  physical  force,  and  deny  the  right 
of  one  man  to  punish,  coerce  or  even  rule  another ; 
— positions  to  which  no  peace  society  has  ever  been 
committed,  which  our  own  has  always  regarded  as 
foreign  to  its  object,  and  which  most  men  would 
deem  subversive  of  all  human  government  and  all 
social  order.  Others,  assuming  the  strict  inviola 
bility  of  human  life,  oppose  war  mainly  as  a  whole 
sale  violation  of  this  simple,  comprehensive  princi 
ple  ; — a  principle  adopted  by  a  small  portion  of  the 
friends  of  peace,  but  never  recognized  as  the  basis 
of  our  cause ;  a  principle  involving  of  course  the 
abolition  of  all  death-penalties,  and  extremely  dim- 
cult,  if  not  impossible,  to  be  reconciled  with  the 
safety  or  legitimate  functions  of  government.  A 
third  class,  far  outnumbering  both  the  former,  dis 
card  this  principle,  yet  dee  in  all  war  contrary  to  the 
gospel ;  while  a  fourth  class,  more  numerous  than 
all  the  foregoing,  think  it  right  for  nations  to  draw 
the  sword  in  strict  self-defence,  that  is,  when  their 
only  alternative  is  to  kill  or  be  killed,  yet  hold  the 
custom  itself  in  deep  abhorrence,  and  sincerely  desire 
its  abolition.  We  wish  to  unite  all  these  classes  of 
peace  men,  unless  perhaps  the  first  one  be  too  small 
to  be  noticed ;  and  we  would  fain  unite  them  by 
constructing  a  platform  on  which  they  can  all  con- 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

sistently  work  together  for  their  common  purpose, 
the  abolition  of  war.  On  this  point  they  perfectly 
agree  ;  and,  since  their  object  is  the  same,  we  would 
let  them  all  labor  for  it,  each  in  his  own  way,  without 
making  one  responsible  for  the  views  of  another. 

Let  us  see  on  what  terms  the  friends  of  other 
causes  have  united.  They  have  required,  not  per 
fect  uniformity  of  views,  but  only  cordial,  active  co 
operation  for  the  attainment  of  their  common  object. 
If  a  man  would  from  any  motives  unite  with  them 
in  putting  an  end  to  the  slave-trade  or  intempe 
rance,  he  was  welcomed  as  a  coadjutor,  and  left  to 
take  such  views,  and  urge  such  arguments,  as  he 
himself  felt  most,  and  therefore  thought  likely  to 
make  the  best  impression  upon  others.  Every  cast 
of  mind  was  to  be  met ;  and  hence  all  were  not  only 
permitted,  but  desired  to  press  each  his  own  favorite 
arguments  upon  men  of  kindred  stamp. 

Here  is  sound  good  sense  ;  nor  do  we  see  why  it 
should  not  be  applied  to  peace,  and  all  its  professed 
friends  be  allowed  to  retain  their  present  views,  and 
still  co-operate,  if  they  will,  for  their  common  ob 
ject.  There  are  points  of  coincidence  between 
them  sufficient  for  this  purpose.  They  are  one  in 
their  desires  for  the  abolition  of  war ;  they  agree  in 
most  of  their  views  touching  peace,  and  differ  only 
on  one  or  two  points ;  they  would,  in  laboring  for 
their  common  cause,  use  essentially  the  same  means; 
and  the  diversity  in  their  modes  of  exhibiting  the 
subject,  is  in  fact  necessary  to  reach  with  the  best 
effect  all  the  variety  of  minds  that  we  wish  to  enlist. 

The  cause  of  peace,  then,  ought  to  be  prosecuted 
with  the  same  liberality  as  other  enterprises,  and 
all  its  friends  be  permitted,  without  rebuke  or  sus 
picion,  to  promote  it  in  such  ways  as  they  respect 
ively  prefer.  The  test  should  be,  not  the  belief  of 
this  or  that  dogma,  but  a  willingTiess  to  co-operate  for 


INTRODUCTION.  11 

the  entir  abolition  of  war ;  and  all  that  will  do  this- 
and  just  as  far  as  they  do  it,  should  be  regarded  aa 
friends  of  peace.  If  any  doctrine  be  required  as  a 
test,  let  it  be  the  broad  principle  on  which  the  first 
General  Peace  Convention  in  London  (1843)  was 
constituted,  viz.,  that  war  is  inconsistent  with  Chris 
tianity,  and  the  true  interests  of  mankind.  We  grant 
that  this  language  is  indefinite,  allowing  a  pretty 
free  play  of  the  pendulum  ;  but  this  is  just  what  we 
want  in  order  to  meet  the  diversity  of  opinion 
among  the  friends  of  peace.  We  can  make,  it  ex 
press  the  belief  of  all  war  unchristian  ;  but  it  pledges 
us  only  to  a  condemnation  of  the  custom.  To  this 
principle  there  can  be  no  objection  from  any  one 
willing  to  labor  for  the  abolition  of  war  ;  and  hence 
the  test  of  principle  would  in  fact  be  the  very 
test  of  action  on  which  alone  we  insist.  We  ask 
men  to  abolish  war  ;  and,  if  they  gird  themselves  in 
earnest  for  this  work,  we  would  let  them  do  it  in 
their  own  way,  nor  quarrel  with  them  about  their 
motives. 

Any  other  course  must  clog  our  cause  with  a 
variety  of  superfluous  issues.  Let  me  suppose  you 
arguing  against  the  slave-trade.  Not  satisfied  with 
proving  it  wrong,  you  try  to  bring  it  under  the 
condemnation  of  some  general  principle  applicable 
to  a  hundred  other  things — the  principle,  if  you 
please,  that  all  love  of  money,  or  all  physical  coer 
cion  of  men,  both  of  which  are  so  deeply  concerned 
in  that  trade,  is  unchristian.  Your  antagonist 
readily  admits  the  traffic  itself  to  be  wrong,  but 
joins  issue  on  your  general  principle,  and  thus  com 
pels  you  to  waste  nearly  all  your  strength  upon 
what  is  not  essential  to  your  purpose.  Were  you 
endeavoring  to  abolish  duelling,  would  you  first  es 
tablish  the  principle,  that  self-defence,  or  the  taking 
of  human  life  in  any  case,  or  all  use  of  brute  force, 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

is  unchristian,  and  then  forbid  the  co-operation  of 
any  that  did  not  embrace  one  or  all  of  these  princi 
pies  1  True,  if  you  prove  either,  you  condemn 
duelling ;  but  if  neither  is  true,  that  practice  may 
still  be  utterly  wrong.  So  in  peace.  I  prove  it 
just  as  wrong  for  nations  to  fight  as  it  is  for  indi 
viduals  ;  but  a  stickler  for  simplification,  presses 
me  to  know  on  what  principle  I  condemn  war. 
4  Principle  !  Why,  I  have  just  adduced  a  dozen  in 
the  shape  of  so  many  arguments  against  it.'  "  But 
on  what  one  in  particular  do  you  deem  it  wrong? 
What  is  your  stand-point  ?"  If  in  reply  I  say,  that 
human  life  is  inviolable,  or  that  the  gospel  discards 
all  physical  force,  or  forbids  my  injuring  another 
for  my  own  benefit,  he  starts  at  once  a  new  trail  of 
objections,  not  against  my  sole  aim  of  abolishing 
war,  but  against  my  principle  as  applicable  in  his 
view  to  something  else  which  he  thinks  right.  He 
says  it  condemns  capital  punishment,  and  even  sub 
verts  all  human  government ;  and  thus  he  leads  me 
away  from  my  sole  object  into  disputes  which  have 
little  or  no  connection  with  peace.  If  you  prove 
human  life  inviolable,  or  all  use  of  brute  force  un 
christian,  you  certainly  condemn  war  ;  but  is  it 
wrong  on  no  other  grounds  ?  If  it  is,  then  let  all 
that  choose,  discard  it  on  those  grounds,  nor  insist 
that  they  shall  argue  against  it  only  in  your  own 
favorite  way. 

We  plead,  then,  for  the  cordial,  zealous  co-opera 
tion  of  all  peace-men,  and  would  fain  take  away 
from  every  friend  of  God  or  man  the  last  shred  of 
excuse  for  refusing  to  co-operate.  Associated  solely 
for  the  abolition  of  international  war,  they  should 
be  pledged  only  to  that  end,  and  allowed  to  retain 
each  his  own  opinions,  and  to  labor  for  their  com 
mon  object  in  such  ways  as  they  respectively  prefer, 
without  insisting  upon  any  other  basis  of  co-opera- 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

tion  than  the  belief,  that  war,  being  inconsistent 
with  Christianity,  and  the  true  interests  of  mankind, 
ought  to  be  abolished.  Such  a  course  would  remove 
not  a  few  obstructions,  conciliate  a  much  larger 
number  of  co-workers,  and  pave  the  way  for  a 
speedier  and  more  glorious  triumph. 

The  time  has  come  for  a  much  more  extensive 
rally  in  behalf  of  this  cause  than  has  ever  yet  been 
attempted.  It  is  the  grand  interest  of  the  world; 
and  its  claims  we  would  urge  upon  every  friend 
whether  of  God  or  man.  We  should  spread  our 
sails  for  every  breeze  that  may  waft  us  sooner  into 
the  port  of  universal  and  permanent  peace.  We 
should  press  into  our  service  every  possible  auxili 
ary.  We  need  and  may  secure  all  the  good  influ 
ences  of  the  world  ;  and,  should  we  make  our  plat 
form  broad  enough  to  include  all  that  are  really 
desirous,  from  any  motives,  of  putting  an  end  to  the 
time-hallowed  tyranny  of  the  sword,  we  might  ere 
long  rally  for  its  utter  abolition  every  well-wisher 
to  mankind. 

It  is  by  a  very  simple  process  we  hope  under 
God  to  reach  this  glorious  result.  Public  opinion 
in  the  long  run  governs  the  world ;  and  if  we  can 
once  revolutionize  the  war-sentiments  of  mankind, 
and  bring  the  custom  under  their  universal  ban,  it 
must  of  necessity  cease  everywhere.  It  exists 
solely  because  they  choose  it ;  and,  when  nations 
shall  all  discard  it  as  the  arbiter  of  their  disputes, 
or  the  instrument  of  their  ambition,  cupidity  or 
vengeance,  it  will  of  course  vanish  from  the  earth 
like  darkness  before  the  rising  sun.  and  give  place 
to  rational,  peaceful  methods,  such  as  stipulated  ar 
bitration,  or  a  congress  of  nations,  more  effectual 
for  all  purposes  of  protection  or  redress,  than  the 
sword  ever  was,  or  ever  can  be.  We  propose  to  su 
persede  the  alleged  necessity  of  war,  by  the  adop- 
2 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

tion  of  feasible,  effective   and  satisfactory  substi 
tutes. 

TESTIMONIES   TO   PEACE. 

"  AMERICA,"  says  the  Rev.  Mr.  JEFFRIES,  a  dis 
tinguished  English  Missionary  in  India,  "  has  the 
honor  of  inventing  two  of  the  most  valuable  institu 
tions  that  ever  blessed  mankind, — the  Peace  Socie 
ty,  and  the  Temperance  Society ;  and,  if  every 
American  viewed  them  as  I  do,  he  would  join  them 
immediately.'1'1  Dr.  REED,  of  London,  describes  this 
cause  as  "  a  field  worthy  of  the  church,  worthy  of 
angels,"  and  calls  upon  Christians  to  u  glorify  their 
religion  by  banding  together  as  an  army  of  pacifi 
cators." 

JUDSON,  the  Apostle  of  Burmah,  says,  "I  hail 
the  establishment  of  peace  societies  as  one  of  the 
most  auspicious  signs  of  the  present  eventful  era, 
and  regard  them  as  combining  with  Bible  and 
Missionary  societies  to  form  that  threefold  cord 
which  will  ultimately  bind  all  the  families  of  man 
in  universal  peace  and  love.  Since  war  has  been 
universally  advocated  and  applauded,  it  appears  to 
me  that  it  is  not  optional  with  any  to  remain  neu 
tral  or  silent  on  this  great  question ;  since,  thus 
remaining,  they  must  be  considered  as  belonging  of 
course  to  the  war  party.  Notwithstanding,  there 
fore,  I  am  a  missionary,  I  have  determined  to  make 
whatever  efforts  are  necessary  to  comply  with  the 
dictates  of  conscience,  and  wash  my  hands  of  the 
blood  that  is  shed  in  war.  I  regret  that  I  have  so 
long  delayed  to  enter  my  protest  against  this  prac 
tice  by  some  overt  act ;  a  measure  which  appears, 
in  the  present  state  of  things,  the  indispensable  duty 
of  every  Christian" 

Ecclesiastical  bodies,  representing  nearly  every 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

Christian  denomination  in  our  country,  Lave  borne 
their  testimony  to  this  cause, — Congregationalists, 
both  Unitarian  and  Orthodox,  Baptists,  Presbyteri 
ans,  Dutch  Reformed,  Methodists,  Free-will  Baptists, 
and  Christians.  They  "  commend  this  cause  to  the 
Christian  community  as  worthy  of  a  place  among 
the  benevolent  enterprises  of  the  age,"  and  regard 
"  the  American  Peace  Society  as  eminently  entitled 
to  the  cordial  cooperation  and  support  of  all  the 
churches  of  Christ."  They  deem  it  "the  duty  of 
ministers  to  preach  in  favor  of  the  cause  of  peace 
as  a  prominent  part  of  the  gospel,  and  of  Chris 
tians  to  pray  for  the  spread  of  peace  through  the 
world."  They  think,  also,  "that  the  subject  of 
peace,  being  in  its  strictly  evangelical  principles  and 
bearings  a  part  of  the  gospel,  ought  to  be  discussed 
in  the  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath,  just  like  the  other 
principles  of  the  Bible  ;"  and  that  "  ministers  should 
continue  to  preach,  Christians  to  pray,  and  all  to 
contribute  in  favor  of  universal  and  permanent 
peace." 

"  Much  may  be  done,"  says  CHALMERS,  "  to  accel 
erate  the  advent  of  perpetual  and  universal  peace, 
by  a  distinct  body  of  men  embarking  their  every 
talent,  and  their  every  acquirement  in  the  prosecu 
tion  of  this  as  a  distinct  object.  This  was  the  way 
in  which  the  British  public  were  gained  over  to  the 
cause  of  Africa.  This  is  the  way  in  which  some  of 
the  other  prophecies  of  the  Bible  are  at  this  moment 
hastening  to  their  accomplishment ;  and  it  is  in  this 
way,  I  apprehend,  that  the  prophecy  of  peace  may 
be  indebted  for  its  speedier  fulfilment  to  the  agency 
of  men  selecting  this  as  the  assigned  field  on  which 
their  philanthropy  shall  expatiate.  Were  each  indi 
vidual  member  of  such  a  scheme  to  prosecute  his 
own  walk,  and  come  forward  with  his  own  peculiar 
contribution,  the  fruit  of  the  united  labors  of  all 


16  INTRODUCTION. 

would  be  one  of  the  finest  collections  of  Christian 
eloquence,  and  of  enlightened  morals,  and  of  sound 
political  philosophy,  that  ever  was  presented  to  the 
world.  I  could  not  fasten  on  another  cause  more 
fitted  to  call  forth  such  a  variety  of  talent,  and  to 
rally  around  it  so  many  of  the  generous  and  accom 
plished  sons  of  humanity,  and  to  give  each  of  them 
a  devotedness  and  a  power  far  beyond  whatever 
could  be  sent  into  the  hearts  of  enthusiasts  by  the 
mere  impulse  of  literary  ambition." 

"  It  is  high  time,"  says  JOHN  ANGELL  JAMES,  "  for 
the  followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus  to  study 
the  genius  of  their  religion.  A  hatred  of  war  is  an 
essential  feature  of  practical  Christianity  ;  and  it  is 
a  shame  upon  what  is  called  the  Christian  world, 
that  it  has  not  long  since  borne  universal  and  indig 
nant  testimony  against  that  enormous  evil  which 
still  rages  not  merely  among  savages,  but  among 
scholars,  philosophers,  Christians  and  divines.  Real 
Christians  should  come  out  from  the  world  on  this 
subject,  and  touch  not  the  unclean  thing.  Let  them 
act  upon  their  own  principles,  and  become  not  only 
the  friends  but  the  advocates  of  peace.  Let  min 
isters  from  the  pulpit^  writers  from  the  press,  and 
private  Christians  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other 
and  the  world,  inculcate  a  fixed  and  irreconcilable  ab 
horrence  of  war.  LET  THE  CHURCH  OF  GOD  BE  A 
SOCIETY  FOR  THE  DIFFUSION  OF  THE  PRINCIPLES  OF 
UNIVERSAL  PEACE." 

"  Would  to  God,"  exclaims  Bishop  WATSON,  "  that 
the  spirit  of  the  Christian  religion  would  exert  its 
influence  over  the  hearts  of  individuals  in  their  pub 
lic  capacity,  as  much  as,  we  trust,  it  does  over  their 
conduct  in  private  life  !  Then  there  would  be  no 
war.  When  the  spirit  of  Christianity  shall  exert  its 
proper  influence  over  the  minds  of  individuals,  and 
especially  over  the  minds  of  public  men  in  their 


INTRODUCTION.  1? 

public  capacities,  war  will  cease  throughout  the 
Christian  world." 

"  War,"  said  the  sainted  PAYSON,  "  is  surrounded 
by  a  deceitful  lustre.  The  monster,  unveiled  in  all 
his  deformity,  is  seen  steeped  from  head  to  foot  in 
human  gore,  gorging  his  insatiable  maw  with  the 
yet  quivering  limbs  of  mangled  victims,  and  feast 
ing  his  ears  with  the  wailings  of  disconsolate  widows 
and  helpless  orphans  ;  while  the  flash  of  cannon,  the 
glare  of  bombs,  and  the  red  blaze  of  cities  wrapt  in 
conflagration,  furnish  the  only  light  which  illumin 
ates  his  horrid  banquet.  Such  is  the  idol  whom  the 
votaries  of  war  adore  ;  such  is  the  Moloch  on  whose 
altars  men  have  exultingly  sacrificed,  not  hecatombs 
of  beasts,  but  millions  of  their  fellow  creatures ;  on 
whose  blood-thirsty  worshippers  beauty  has  lavished 
her  smiles,  and  genius  its  eulogies ;  whose  horrid 
triumphs,  fit  only  to  be  celebrated  in  the  infernal 
world,  painters  arid  sculptors,  poets  and  historians, 
have  combined  to  surround  with  a  blaze  of  immor 
tal  glory. 

But  let  the  monster's  hideous  form  be  exposed 
in  its  true  colors ;  and  it  will  be  an  honor  to  Chris 
tianity,  a  powerful  argument  in  her  favor,  to  be 
known  as  his  most  decided  and  successful  foe.  To 
accomplish  this  work,  to  place  before  men  in  naked 
deformity  the  idol  they  have  so  long  ignorantly 
worshipped  in  disguise,  and  thus  turn  against  him 
the  powerful  current  of  public  opinion,  is  the  great 
object  of  the  associated  friends  of  peace.  Nor  is  it 
easy  to  conceive  how  any  one  who  believes  the  Scrip 
tures,  and  professes  to  be  the  disciple  of  the  Prince 
of  Peace,  or  a  friend  to  the  human  race,  can  justify 
himself  in  withholding  his  aid  from  a  cause  so  evident 
ly  the  cause  of  God.  Who  would  not  wish  to  share 
this  honor  ?  After  the  glorious  victory  shall  have 
been  won.  after  wars  shall  have  been  made  to  cease 
2* 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

under  the  whole  heaven,  who  will  not  then  wish  to 
have  been  among  the  few  that  first  unfurled  the 
consecrated  banner  of  peace  ?" 

We  might,  also,  multiply  testimonies  for  peace 
from  men  of  the  world.  "  The  very  things."  says 
SENECA,  "  which,  if  men  had  done  them  in  their 
private  capacity,  they  would  expiate  with  their  lives, 
we  extol  when  perpetrated  in  regimentals  at  the 
bidding  of  a  general.  Enormities  forbidden  in  pri 
vate  persons,  are  actually  enjoined  by  legislatures, 
and  every  species  of  barbarity  authorized  by  decrees 
of  the  senate,  and  votes  of  the  people." 

"  War,"  says  MACHIAVEL,  "  makes  villains,  and 
peace  brings  them  to  the  gallows." 

"  How  frightful,"  exclaims  WASHINGTON,  "  is  that 
false  ambition  which  desolates  the  world  with  fire 
and  sword !  It  is  time  for  knight-errantry  and  mad 
heroism  to  be  at  an  end." 

"War,"  says  JEFFERSON,  "is  an  instrument  en 
tirely  inefficient  towards  redressing  wrong,  and  multi 
plies  instead  of  indemnifying  losses.  Will  nations 
never  devise  a  more  rational  umpire  of  their  differ 
ences  than  force?" 

"  All  wars,"  says  FRANKLIN,  "  are  follies,  very  ex 
pensive  and  very  mischievous  ones.  There  never 
has  been,  nor  ever  will  be,  any  such  thing  as  A  GOOD 
WAR.  OR  A  BAD  PEACE.  Better  for  mankind  to  settle 
their  difiiculties  even  by  the  cast  of  a  die,  than  by 
fighting  and  destroying  each  other.  When  will 
mankind  be  convinced  of  this,  and  agree  to  settle 
their  difficulties  by  arbitration?  We  daily  make 
great  improvements  in  natural  philosophy;  there  is 
one  I  wish  to  see  in  moral — the  discovery  of  a  plan 
that  would  induce  and  oblige  nations  to  settle  their 
disputes  without  first  cutting  one  another's  throats." 

"  I  have  been,"  says  Louis  BUONAPARTE,  "  as  en- 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

thusiastic  and  joyous  as  any  one  else  after  victory ; 
still  I  confess  that  even  then  the  sight  of  a  field  of 
battle  not  only  struck  me  with  horror,  but  even 
turned  me  sick.  And  now  that  I  am  advanced  in 
life,  I  cannot  understand,  any  more  than  I  could  at 
fifteen  years  of  age,  how  beings  who  call  themselves 
reasonable,  can  employ  this  short  existence,  not  in 
loving  and  aiding  each  other,  and  passing  through 
it  as  gently  as  possible,  but  in  striving,  on  the  con 
trary,  to  destroy  each  other,  as  though  time  did  not 
do  this  with  sufficient  rapidity.  What  I  thought  at 
fifteen  years  of  age,  I  still  think,  that  war,  and  the 
pain  of  death  which  society  draws  upon  itself,  are 
but  organized  barbarisms,  an  inheritance  of  the 
savage  state,  disguised  or  ornamented  by  ingenious 
institutions,  and  false  eloquence." 

"What,"  asks  CARLYLE,  "is  the  net  purport  and 
upshot  of  war  ?  To  my  own  knowledge,  for  exam 
ple,  there  dwell  and  toil  in  the  British  village  of 
Dumdrudge.  usually  some  five  hundred  souls.  From 
these,  by  certain  '  natural  enemies'  of  the  French, 
there  are  successively  selected  during  the  French 
war,  say  thirty  able-bodied  men.  Dumdrudge,  at 
her  own  expense,  has  suckled  and  nursed  them  ;  she 
has,  not  without  difficulty  and  sorrow,  fed  them  up 
to  manhood,  and  even  trained  them  to  crafts,  so 
that  one  can  weave,  another  build,  another  hammer, 
and  the  weakest  can  stand  under  thirty  stone  avoir 
dupois.  Nevertheless,  amid  much  weeping  and 
swearing,  they  are  selected ;  all  dressed  in  red,  and 
shipped  away,  at  the  public  charges,  some  two  thou 
sand  miles,  or  say  only  to  the  south  of  Spain,  and 
fed  there  till  wanted.  And  now  to  that  same  spot 
in  the  south  of  Spain,  are  thirty  similar  French  ar 
tisans,  from  a  French  Dumdrudge,  in  like  manner 
wending,  till  at  length  after  infinite  effort,  the  two 
parties  come  into  actual  juxtaposition,  and  thirty 
2 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

stand  fronting  thirty,  each  with  a  gun  in  his  hand. 
Straightway  the  word  '  fire !'  is  given ;  and  they 
blow  the  souls  out  of  one  another  ;  and  in  place  of 
sixty  brisk,  useful  craftsmen,  the  world  has  sixty 
dead  carcasses,  which  it  must  bury,  and  anew  shed 
tears  for. — Had  these  men  any  quarrel  ?  Busy  as 
the  devil  is,  not  the  smallest!  They  lived  far 
enough  apart ;  were  the  entirest  strangers  ;  nay,  in 
so  wide  a  universe,  there  was  even,  unconsciously, 
by  commerce,  some  mutual  helpfulness  between 
them.  How  then?  Simpleton!  their  governers had 
fallen  out,  and,  instead  of  shooting  one  another,  had 
the  cunning  to  make  these  poor  blockheads  shoot. 
Alas,  so  is  it  in  Deutschland,  and  hitherto  in  all 
other  lands ;  still,  as  of  old,  '  what  devilry  soever 
kings  do,  the  Greeks  must  pay  the  piper.' ' 

"  What  a  fine  looking  thing,"  says  JERROLD,  "  is 
war !  Yet,  dress  it  as  we  may,  dress  and  feather  it, 
daub  it  with  gold,  huzza  it,  and  sing  swaggering 
songs  about  it,  what  is  it,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  but 
murder  in  uniform — Cain  taking  the  sergeant's 
shilling  ? 

"  But,  man  of  war  !  you  are  at  length  shrinking, 
withering  like  an  aged  giant.  You  are  not  now 
the  feathered  thing  you  were  ;  the  fingers  of  Opin 
ion  have  been  busy  at  your  plumes  ;  and  that  little 
tube,  the  goose-quill,  has  sent  its  silent  shots  into 
your  huge  anatomy,  and  the  corroding  ink,  even 
whilst  you  look  at  your  sword,  and  think  it  shines 
so  brightly,  is  eating  into  it  with  a  tooth  of  rust." 


PART  I. 

PHYSICAL  EVILS  OF  WAR. 


CHAPTER    I. 

WASTE    OF    PROPERTY    BY    WAR, 

WAR  is  the  grand  impoverisher  of  the  world. 
In  estimating  its  havoc  of  property,  we  must  in 
quire  not  only  how  much  it  costs,  and  how  much  it 
destroys,  but  how  far  it  prevents  the  acquisition  of 
wealth  ;  and  a  full  answer  to  these  three  questions 
would  exhibit  an  amount  of  waste  beyond  the  power 
of  any  imagination  adequately  to  conceive. 

I.  Consider,  then,  how  war  prevents  the  accumula 
tion  of  property.  Its  mere  uncertainties  must  ope 
rate  as  a  very  serious  hindrance  ;  for  while  every 
thing  is  afloat,  and  no  forecast  can  anticipate  what 
changes  may  take  place  any  month,  men  will  not 
embark  in  those  undertakings  by  which  alone  wealth 
is  rapidly  acquired.  This  cause  alone,  an  invariable 
attendant  upon  war,  is  sufficient  to  paralyze  the 
energies  of  business  in  all  its  departments. 

Still  worse,  however,  are  the  sudden  changes  of 
war.  These  discourage  enterprise,  defeat  the  best 
plans,  and  produce  a  vast  multitude  of  failures. 
The  mere  dread  of  such  changes  must  paralyze, 
more  or  less,  every  department  of  business,  and 
cripple  nearly  all  efforts  for  the  acquisition  of 
wealth. 

Hence  ensue  a  general  derangement  and  stagna- 


22  WASTE    OF    PROPERTY    BY    WAR. 

tion  of  business,  which  leave  the  main  energies  of 
a  people,  even  if  not  absorbed  in  the  war,  to  rust  in 
idleness,  or  be  frittered  away  in  fruitless  exertions. 
Enterprise  is  checked,  because  there  is  little  reward 
or  demand  for  its  products.  There  is  no  foreign 
market  for  the  fruits  of  agriculture  ;  and  land  ceases 
to  be  tilled  with  care  and  success.  There  is  no  out 
let  for  manufactures  ;  and  the  shop  and  the  factory 
are  closed,  or  kept  at  work  with  little  vigor  and  less 
profit.  Intercourse  between  nations  is  almost  sus 
pended  ;  and  commerce  stands  still,  vessels  rot  at 
the  wharves,  and  sea-ports,  once  alive  with  the  hum 
of  business,  are  cut  off  from  the  principal  sources  of 
their  wealth,  and  sink  into  speedy,  perhaps  irre 
coverable  decay.  All  the  main-springs  of  national 
prosperity  are  broken,  or  crippled,  or  kept  in  opera 
tion  at  immense  disadvantage.  An  incalculable 
amount  of  capital  in  money,  and  ships,  and  stores, 
and  factories,  and  workshops,  and  machinery,  and 
tools,  and  raw  materials,  and  buildings,  and  inven 
tions,  and  canals,  and  railways,  and  industry,  and 
skill,  and  talent,  is  withdrawn  from  use,  and  for 
want  of  profitable  employment,  goes  more  or  less  to 
waste.  How  much  is  thus  lost,  it  would  be  vain 
even  to  conjecture ;  but  we  should  be  safe  in  sup 
posing  that  in  these  ways  alone  war  might  reduce 
for  a  time  the  value  of  a  nation's  entire  property, 
from  thirty  to  fifty  per  cent. ! 

But  the  most  direct  waste  conies  from  the  sudden 
withdrawal  of  men  in  the  vigor  of  life.  In  such 
men  are  found  the  mines  or  laboratories  of  a  nation's 
wealth ;  but  what  multitudes  of  these  does  the  war 
system  require  for  its  support !  The  standing  war 
riors  of  Europe  are  (1846)  about  three  millions  even 
in  peace,  and  exceed  four  millions  and  a  half  in 
war.  Not  a  few  of  these  millions  may  have  been 
the  main-springs  of  business,  and  all  of  them  must 


WASTE    OF   PROPERTY   BY    WAR.  23 

possess  an  unusual  share  of  strength  for  labor,  since 
no  others  would  be  equal  to  the  hardships  of  war ; 
and  the  sudden  abstraction  of  such  men  by  thou 
sands  from  every  part  of  a  country,  and  from  every 
kind  of  employment,  must  paralyze  the  entire  indus 
try  of  a  nation. 

Still  worse  is  the  influence  of  war  on  the  habits 
indispensable  to  the  thrift  of  a  people.  It  mars  the 
character  necessary  for  the  acquisition  of  property. 
It  renders  them  idle,  dishonest  and  profligate.  It 
destroys  the  habits  needed  to  enrich  a  people,  and 
introduces  others  fatally  calculated  to  impoverish 
any  country. 

Such  considerations  we  might  pursue  to  almost 
any  extent ;  but  enough  has  been  said  to  show,  that 
all  the  enormous  expenses  of  war  would  not  equal 
the  loss  of  property  occasioned  by  such  causes  alone 
as  we  have  here  specified.  Take  an  illustration. 
When  our  population  was  some  fifteen  or  sixteen 
millions,  the  annual  production  of  the  United 
States  was  estimated  at  $1,400,000,000;  and,  if 
we  suppose  war  to  prevent  only  one-fifth  of  all  this, 
the  loss  would  be  $280,000,000  a  year  !  If  our 
population  were  forty  millions,  the  annual  sacrifice 
would  be  about  $700,000,000  ;  and  at  only  half  this 
rate,  the  whole  globe,  with  1,000,000,000  inhabit 
ants,  would  lose  no  less  than  $8,750,000,000  a 
year !  Hardly  credible  ;  and  yet  the  calculation 
is  moderate,  and  may  serve  as  a  clue  to  the  bound 
less  waste  of  property  by  war,  even  in  ways  gener 
ally  overlooked. 

II.  Glance  next  at  the  incidental  havoc  of  property 
by  war.  Follow  an  army,  savage  or  civilized  ;  trace 
the  course  of  the  French  in  Russia  or  Portugal, 
setting  fire,  in  one  case,  to  every  house  for  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  miles  ;  look  at  even  British  troops  in 
Spain  or  India2  trampling  down  harvests,  and  burn- 


24  WASTE    OF    PROPERTY    BY   WAR. 

ing  villages,  destroying  towns,  ravaging  entire  pro 
vinces,  and  pillaging  city  after  city  ;  and  can  you 
conceive  the  amount  of  property  thus  wasted  ? 

We  can  ascertain  more  nearly,  yet  very  imper 
fectly,  what  is  destroyed  on  the  ocean.  Our  own  ex 
ports  and  imports  range  from  two  hundred  to  two 
hundred  and  forty  millions  of  dollars  a  year  ;  a  still 
larger  amount  is  interchanged  along  our  immense 
coast ;  and  no  small  part  of  both  would  be  liable  in 
war  to  be  seized  by  our  enemies.  Since  the  close 
of  our  Revolution,  we  have  been  (1846)  engaged  in 
foreign  war  less  than  three  years  ;  but  it  would 
probably  require  some  hundreds  of  millions  to  cover 
all  the  losses  sustained  in  our  commerce  alone. 

Another  source  of  pecuniary  loss  is  found  in  the 
waste  of  life  by  war.  It  takes  men  at  the  very  age 
when  their  labor  would  be  most  productive,  and  short 
ens  their  life  more  than  twenty  years  in  war,  and  some 
ten  or  fifteen  in  peace  !  The  statistics  of  mortality 
among  men  devoted  to  this  work  of  blood,  are  truly 
startling.  Soldiers,  though  generally  young  and 
vigorous,  live  on  an  average  only  about  three  years 
in  war,  and  die  even  in  peace  twice  as  fast  as  galley 
slaves,  and  more  rapidly  than  men  ordinarily  do  at 
the  age  of  fifty  and  sixty  ! 

What  a  loss  of  property  is  here !  Let  us  suppose 
it  costs  an  average  of  $500  to  raise  a  soldier,  and 
reckon  his  labor  for  the  ten  years  of  his  life  short 
ened  in  peace,  and  twenty  years  in  war,  at  $150  a 
year.  If  the  standing  armies  of  Europe  are  three 
millions  in  peace,  she  sustains,  at  this  rate,  a  loss  of 
$1,500,000.000  for  their  training,  $450,000,000  a 
year  for  labor,  and  $4,500,000,000  for  the  shorten 
ing  of  their  life  ten  years ;  an  average  in  peace  of 
$840,000,000  a  year  from  this  source  alone  ! !  Re 
duce  these  estimates  one  half,  and  you  still  have,  even 
in  peace,  the  enormous  sacrifice  of  $420,000,000 


WASTE   OF   PROPERTY   BY   WAR.  25 

a  year.  In  a  time  of  war,  the  armies  of  Europe, 
when  full,  are  supposed  to  be  some  four  millions 
and  a  half;  but  putting  them  in  round  numbers  at 
four  milions,  the  loss  would  be  for  their  training 
$2,000,000,000,  for  their  labor  $600,000,000  a 
year,  and  for  cutting  short  their  life  twenty  years, 
$12,000,000,000  ;  an  average  loss  in  war,  if  we  sup 
pose  a  soldier's  life  then  to  be  only  three  years,  of 
$5,266,000,000  a  year ! ! 

III.  Look,  now,  at  the  actual  cost  of  war.  Even 
in  peace,  it  is  enormous.  The  amount  of  money 
wasted  on  fortifications  and  ships,  on  arms  and  am 
munition,  on  monuments  and  other  military  demon 
strations,  it  is  impossible  to  calculate.  France 
alone  has  more  than  120  fortified  places;  the  ex 
pense  of  the  wall  round  Paris  was  estimated  (1840) 
at  250,000,000  francs,  or  nearly  $50,000,000  ;  and 
a  single  triumphal  arch  in  that  city,  only  one  among 
the  hundreds  scattered  through  Christendom,  cost 
10,000,000  francs.  Go  to  Greenwich  or  Chelsea, 
and  there  see  what  immense  sums  are  spent  on 
England's  diseased,  crippled  and  worn-out  servants 
of  war.  She  has  about  100,000  pensioners,  nearly 
all  the  offspring  of  her  war-system.  Survey  her 
grand  arsenal  at  Woolwich,  and  imagine  how  many 
millions  have  been  wasted  on  its  27,000  cannons, 
and  its  hundreds  of  thousands  of  small  arms. 
Millions  of  dollars  have  been  expended  on  scraie 
single  forts  in  our  own  country ;  and  a  hundred 
millions  more  would  not  suffice  to  complete  and 
fully  arm  the  whole  circle  of  fortifications  demanded 
for  our  defense.  The  single  arsenal  at  Springfield, 
contains  muskets  alone  to  the  value  of  $3,000,000 ; 
upon  the  Military  Academy  at  West  Point,  we  have 
(1846)  already  squandered  more  than  $4,000,000; 
and  in  our  Navy  Yard  at  Charlestown  are  sunk  near 
ly  five  millions  more  !  The  average  cost  to  us  of  a 
3 


26  WASTE   OF   PROPERTY    BY   WAR. 

line-of  battle  ship  is  $830,000,  though  some  of  ours 
have  absorbed  in  construction  and  repairs  more  than 
a  million  each  ;  and  the  war  ships  of  all  Christen 
dom  probably  amount  to  some  2,000,  the  cost  of 
which,  at  an  average  of  half  a  million  each,  would 
be  $1,000,000,000  in  all  Merely  to  keep  the  ma 
teriel  or  instruments  of  war  in  full  repair,  must  eost 
Christendom  nearly  $100,000,000  a  year. 

Still  more  expensive,  however,  is  the  maintenance 
of  warriors  even  in  peace.  Thiers,  the  distinguish 
ed  historian  of  France,  reckons  the  expense  of  sup 
porting  a  soldier  to  be  in  Austria  about  $130,  in 
France  $146,  in  Prussia  nearly  $200,  in  England 
still  greater  ;  an  average  through  Christendom  of  at 
least  $150  a  year.  The  whole  number  of  standing 
warriors  in  Christendom,  cannot  be  less  than  3,000,- 
000  in  peace.  The  army  of  Spain  has  been  120,000  ; 
that  of  England  100,000,  with  the  addition  of  200f 
000  in  war  ;  that  of  France  from  350,000  to  400,000, 
in  1840  even  900,000;  that  of  Austria  750,000  in 
war,  probably  not  less  than  400,000  in  peace  ;  that 
of  Russia  850,000  in  peace,  and  reckoned  by  some 
ag  high  as  1,000,000.  These  3,000,000,  at  $150 
each,  would  require  $450,000,000  a  year  for  their 
sustenance ;  and  reckoning  one  officer  to  ten  sol 
diers,  and  awarding  to  each  of  the  latter  an  English 
shilling  a  day,  or  $87  a  year  for  wages,  and  to  the 
former  an  average  salary  of  $500  a  year,  or  less 
than  six  shillings  a  day,  we  should  have,  for  the 
pay  of  the  whole,  no  less  than  $385,000,000  a  year, 
or  a  grand  total,  for  both  sustenance  and  pay,  of 
$835,000,000! 

Few  suspect  how  much  our  own  country  spends 
for  war  even  in  peace.  When  our  population  was 
about  fifteen  millions,  Judge  JAY  reckoned  "  the 
yearly  aggregate  expense  of  our  militia  not  much  if 
any  short  of  fifty  millions ;"  and  besides  all  this, 


WASTE   OF   PROPERTY   BY   WAR.  27 

no  less  than  80  per  cent,  of  all  our  national  expen 
ditures  have  for  years  been  for  war  purposes  alone. 
These  expenditures  have  been  growing  more  and 
more  prodigal.  Under  Washington's  administra 
tion,  they  were  for  the  army  and  navy  less  than 
$11,000,000  in  eight  years,  or  $1,365,000  a  year; 
while  those  of  the  eight  years  preceding  1844, 
reached  nearly  $164,000,000,  or  $20,417,000  a 
year  ;  an  increase  of  1500  per  cent,  in  war  expenses, 
against  an  increase  of  some  400  per  cent,  in  popu 
lation!  In  1817  our  war  expenses  were  about  nine 
times  as  large  as  those  for  all  other  purposes,  and 
in  1832,  seventeen  times  as  great  as  for  all  civil 
offices.  From  1791  to  1832,  a  period  of  forty-one 
years,  the  aggregate  of  our  expenditures,  with  some 
two  years  and  a  half  of  actual  war,  was  $842,250,- 
89 1 ;  and  of  this  sum  at  least  eight-ninths  were  for 
war-purposes,  and  merely  $37,158,047,  or  about 
one  twenty-third  part  of  the  whole,  for  civil  offices ; 
one  dollar  for  the  support  of  civil  government,  to 
twenty-three  dollars  for  war !  During  our  revolu 
tionary  struggle,  we  borrowed  of  France  $7,962,959, 
expended  from  our  own  resources  $135,193,703, 
and  issued  of  paper  money  $359,547,027 ;  in  all, 
$502,703,689,  besides  an  indefinite  amount  of  con 
tributions  from  individuals  and  states.  From  1816 
to  1834,  eighteen  years,  our  national  expenses 
amounted  to  $463,915,756  ;  and  of  this  sum,  nearly 
four  hundred  millions  went  for  war,  and  only  sixty- 
four  millions  for  all  other  objects  !  Here  we  have, 
even  in  peace,  twenty-two  millions  a  year  for  war, 
and  about  three  millions  and  a  half,  less  than  one- 
sixth  of  the  whole,  for  the  peaceful  operations  of 
our  government ! 

But  look  at  the  direct  expenses  of  war.  A  single 
first-rate  ship  of  the  line  is  supposed  to  cost  us,  in 
active  service,  full  half  a  million  of  dollars  a  year ; 


28  WASTE    OF    PROYERTY   BY   WAR. 

and  the  expense  of  every  gun  in  our  navy  averages, 
even  in  peace,  some  $15,000  a  year.  The  pay  of 
officers  alone  amounts  to  a  very  large  sum.  A  cap 
tain  in  the  navy  has  §4,500  a  year  in  service,  and 
$3.500  when  off  duty,  or  doing  nothing  ;  and  we  have 
for  every  ship  nearly  three  captains,  five  lieutenants, 
and  eight  midshipmen,  with  salaries  ranging  from 
$4,500  to  $600.  For  68  ships,  we  had,  two  or 
three  years  ago,  1552  officers  ;  about  23  to  each 
ship,  with  an  average  salary  of  some  $1500;  and, 
consequently,  about  $35,000  for  the  officers  alone. 
The  cost  of  merely  officering  45  ships  in  actual  ser 
vice  was  found,  at  one  time,  to  average  some 
$45,000  for  each  ship  ;  and  there  was  more  than 
one  officer  to  every  gun,  with  a  salary  of  $1300  a 
year  !  Should  any  of  these  men  be  disabled,  they 
would  of  course  retire  on  a  pension,  thus  charging 
the  government  with  their  support  through  life — a 
favor  shown  only  to  men  of  blood ;  and  the  appro 
priations  made  by  Congress  for  such  pensioners  in 
1844,  more  than  sixty  years  after  the  close  of  our 
revolutionary  war,  amounted  to  nearly  a  million  of 
dollars  ($958,000).  In  England  it  is  still  worse. 
Her  navy  consists  of  nearly  600  ships,  with  an 
average  of  two  admirals  to  every  ship  of  the  line, 
upon  a  salary  varying  from  $10,000  to  $5,000. 
The  pay  of  some  single  field  officers  exceeds 
$30,000  a  year  :  and  Wellington  alone  has  received 
for  military  services  about  $1 1,000,000  in  all ! 

Look  at  the  actual  cost  of  some  wars.  From 
1688  to  1815,  a  period  of  127  years,  she  spent  65 
in  war — three  more  than  in  peace.  The  war  of  1688 
continued  nine  years,  and  increased  her  expendi 
tures  $180,000,000.  Then  came  the  war  of  the 
Spanish  succession,  and  absorbed  in  eleven  years 
more  than  $300,000,000.  Next  was  the  Spanish 
war  of  1739,  which  cost  in  nine  years  $270,000,000. 


WASTE    OF    PROPERTY   BY   WAR.  29 

Then  came  the  seven  years'  war  of  1756,  in  the 
course  of  which  England  spent  $560,000,000.  The 
next  was  the  American  war  of  1775,  which  lasted 
eight  years,  and  cost  $680,000,000.  The  French 
Revolutionary  war  of  nine  years  from  1793,  occa 
sioned  an  expenditure  of  $2,320,000,000.  During 
the  war  against  Bonaparte  from  1803  to  1815, 
England  raised  by  taxes  $3,855,000,000,  and  by 
loans  $1,940,000,000;  in  all,  $5,795,000,00,  or  an 
average  of  $1,323,032  every  day!  From  1797  to 
1817,  20  years,  England  borrowed  $2,160,000,000, 
and  raised  by  taxes  $6,192,866,066 ;  in  all, 
$8,352,866,066,  or  an  average  for  the  twenty  years 
of  $1,143,444  every  day,  and  more  than  a  million  of 
this  for  war  !  During  ninety  days,  before  and  after 
the  battle  of  Waterloo,  she  is  supposed  to  have  spent 
an  average  of  about  five  millions  a  day  !  During 
seven  wars,  lasting  in  all  sixty-five  years,  she 
borrowed  $4,170,000,000,  and  raised  by  taxes 
$5,949.000,000 ;  making  a  total  expenditure  of 
$10,115,000,000!  It  has  been  estimated,  that 
England  spent  about  ten  thousand  millions  in  wars 
undertaken  first  to  humble  the  Bourbons,  and  then 
to  restore  them  to  the  throne  which  Napoleon  had 
usurped.  The  wars  of  all  Europe  from  1793  to 
1815,  twenty-two  years,  cost  some  $15,000,000,000, 
and  probably  wasted  full  twice  as  much  more  in 
other  ways,  thus  making  a  grand  total  of  more  than 
forty  thousand  millions  of  dollars  ! 

No  wonder  that  war  has  loaded  the  Old  World 
with  enormous  debts.  Their  exact  amount  it  is 
impossible  to  ascertain ;  but  of  England's  war-debt 
we  subjoin  a  brief  tabular  history : 

1660 — 1689.  Debt  contracted  under  Charles  II.  and  James 

If., $3,300,002 

1689—1697.  Contracted  in  the  Revolution  under  William 

III.,  105,000,000 


30  WASTE   OF   PROPERTY   BY   WAR. 

1702 — 1713.    In  the  war  of  the  Spanish  Succession  under 

Anne 187,500,000 

Total  Debt  in  1713, 270,000,000 

1739—1748.    In  the  war  with  Spain,  and  the  Austrian 

Succession, 157,500,000 

1756—1763.    In  the  Seven  Years'  War,      ....     357,500,000 
Total  Debt  in  1763 732,500,000 

1775—1783.    In  the  American  War, 515,000,000 

Total  Debt  in  J 783, 1,195,000,000 

1793—1802.    In  the  war  of  the  French  Revolution,  .        .  1,460,000,000 
Total  Debt  in  1802 2,630,000.000 

1803—1815.    In  the  peace  of  1802-3,  and  war  with  Na 
poleon 1,695.000,000 

Total  Debt  in  1815,        ....        .        .  4,325,000,000 

Total  Debt  in  1838, 3,960,000,000 

When  we  remember  that  the  mere  interest  and 
management  of  this  debt  require  about  $140,000,000 
a  year,  besides  all  the  current  expenses  for  her  army, 
and  navy,  and  civil  list,  we  are  prepared  for  Sydney 
Smith's  graphic  sketch  of  England's  taxation : — 
"  Taxes  upon  every  article  which  enters  the  mouth,  or 
covers  the  back,  or  is  placed  under  the  feet ;  taxes 
upon  everything  which  it  is  pleasant  to  see,  hear,  feel, 
smell  or  taste  ;  taxes  upon  warmth,  light  and  loco 
motion  ;  taxes  upon  everything  on  the  earth,  and 
in  the  waters  under  the  earth  ;  taxes  on  everything 
that  comes  from  abroad,  or  is  grown  at  home ;  taxes 
on  the  raw  material,  and  upon  every  fresh  value 
that  is  added  to  it  by  the  industry  of  man  ;  taxes  on 
the  sauce  that  pampers  man's  appetite,  and  the  drug 
that  restores  him  to  health ;  on  the  ermine  which 
decorates  the  judge,  and  the  rope  which  hangs  the 
criminal ;  on  the  poor  man's  salt,  and  the  rich  man's 
spice ;  on  the  brass  nails  of  the  coffin,  and  the  rib 
bons  of  the  bride.  Taxes  we  never  escape  ;  at  bed 
or  board,  couchant  or  levant,  we  must  pay.  The 
school-boy  whips  his  taxed  top;  the  beardless  youth 
manages  his  taxed  horse,  with  a  taxed  bridle,  upon 
a  taxed  road  ;  and  the  dying  Englishman,  pouring 
his  medicine  which  has  paid  seven  per  cent.,  into  a 
spoon  that  has  paid  fifteen  per  cent.,  flings  himself 
back  upon  his  chintz  bed  which  has  paid  twenty-two 


WASTE   OF   PROPERTY    BY  WAR.  31 

per  cent.,  makes  his  will  on  an  eight-pound  stamp, 
and  expires  in  the  arms  of  an  apothecary  who  has 
paid  a  license  of  a  hundred  pounds  for  the  privilege 
of  putting  him  to  death.  His  whole  property  is 
immediately  taxed  from  two  to  ten  per  cent.  Be 
sides  the  probate,  large  fees  are  demanded  for  bury 
ing  him  in  the  chancel ;  his  virtues  are  handed  down 
to  posterity  on  taxed  marble ;  and  then  he  is  gath 
ered  to  his  fathers — to/  be  taxed  no  more." 

The  condition  of  Holland  is  still  worse.  In 
1840  her  debt  was  800,000,000  German  dollars ;  an 
average  of  $266  to  each  inhabitant.  Her  solvency 
is  very  doubtful;  for  her  expenses  since  1830  have 
almost  invariably  exceeded  her  income.  The  Dutch 
have  tried  every  expedient  to  extricate  themselves, 
reducing  the  perquisites  of  royalty  so  low  as  to  make 
their  king  little  more  than  a  burgomaster,  and  par 
ing  down  their  protective  duties  so  as  to  secure  the 
largest  possible  amount  of  revenue ;  yet,  after  all, 
bankruptcy  is  staring  them  in  the  face.  What  a 
catastrophe  for  a  nation  that  once  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  commerce  of  the  world  ! 

Europe,  as  a  whole,  has  of  late  been  gradually 
paying  off  her  war  debts ;  but  in  1840,  they  amount 
ed  tO  SOme  TEN  THOUSAND  MILLIONS  OF  DOLLAPv-S  J  an 

average  of  about  fifty  dollars  to  every  inhabitant ; 
the  bare  interest  upon  which,  at  five  per  cent.,  would 
be  $500,000,000  a  year.  The  annual  cost  of  her 
war-system  to  all  Christendom,  including  interest 
on  her  war-debts,  cannot  fall  much  short  of  $1,000.- 
000,000. 

What  a  maelstrom  of  the  world's  wealth  has  war 
been!  Give  back  all  the  property  it  has  wasted 
from  the  first,  and  the  interest  alone  would  sufiice, 
ere  long  to  make  the  whole  earth  a  second  Eden  ; 
to  build  a  palace  for  every  one  of  her  nobles,  and  pro 
vide  luxuries  for  all  her  now  famished  and  suffering 


82  WASTE    OF    PROPERTY    BY   WAR. 

poor  ;  to  spread  over  her  entire  surface  a  complete 
network  of  canals  and  railways ;  to  beautify  every  one 
of  her  cities,  beyond  all  ancient  or  modern  example, 
with  works  of  art  and  genius ;  to  support  all  her  gov 
ernments,  and  give  a  church  to  every  village,  a  school 
to  every  neighborhood,  and  a  Bible  to  every  family. 
"  Give  me  the  money  that  has  been  spent  in  war, 
and  I  will  purchase  every  foot  of  land  upon  the 
globe  ;  I  will  clothe  every  man,  woman  and  child  in 
an  attire  that  kings  and  queens  would  be  proud  of; 
I  will  build  a  school-house  upon  every  hill-side,  and 
in  every  valley  over  the  whole  habitable  earth,  and 
will  supply  that  school-house  with  a  competent 
teacher  ;  I  will  build  an  academy  in  every  town,  and 
endow  it ;  I  will  establish  a  college  in  every  state, 
and  fill  it  with  able  professors ;  I  will  crown  every 
hill  with  a  church,  consecrated  to  the  promulgation 
of  the  gospel  of  peace,  and  will  support  in  its  pul 
pit  an  able  teacher  of  righteousness,  so  that  on  every 
Sabbath  morning  the  chime  on  one  hill  should  an 
swer  to  the  chime  on  another,  round  the  earth's 
broad  circumference  ;  and  the  voice  of  prayer,  and 
the  song  of  praise,  should  ascend  like  an  universal 
holocaust  to  heaven."  There  is  no  end  to  calcula 
tions  like  these.  All  the  contributions  of  modern 
benevolence  are  scarce  a  drop  of  the  bucket  in  com 
parison  with  what  is  continually  wasted  for  war-pur 
poses.  We  stared  at  the  first  suggestion  of  a  rail 
way  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific ;  but  a  single 
year's  cost  of  the  war-system  to  Christendom  would 
build  that  road,  and  two  more  round  the  globe  1 


LOSS   OF   LIFE    BY   WAR. 


33 


CHAPTER  II. 

LOSS    OF   LIFE   BY   WAR. 

THE  chief  aim  of  war  is  the  destruction  of  human 
life ;  and,  in  order  to  ascertain  how  far  it  accom 
plishes  this  fell  purpose,  we  must  consider,  first,  how 
it  prevents  the  increase  of  mankind,  and,  next,  how 
it  actually  destroys  them. 

We  cannot  dwell  on  the  thousand  ways  in  which 
war  prevents  the  salutary  growth  of  our  species. 
The  general  poverty  which  it  creates,  must  tend  to 
hold  back  the  mass  of  the  community  from  mar 
riage.  Virtue  is  the  chief  nurse  of  population  ;  but 
this  custom  is  a  hot-bed  of  vice  and  crime.  It  reeks 
with  licentiousness  ;  and  every  one  knows  that  such 
habits  in  a  community  are  fatal  to  the  increase  of  its 
members,  and  often  suffice  alone  to  insure,  as  in  the 
South-Sea  Islands,  a  steady  and  rapid  diminution. 
Its  stern  exigencies  forbid  in  most  cases  the  mar 
riage  of  its  agents ;  and  the  great  body  of  them 
become  reckless  libertines,  whose  intrigues  debauch 
more  or  less  every  community  they  visit.  There  is 
no  record  of  their  countless  victims  ;  but  the  effect 
in  war-countries  is  seen  in  the  fact,  that  in  Paris 
every  third  child  is  a  bastard.  In  some  European 
countries,  no  man  is  permitted  to  marry  until  he 
has  served  in  the  army  a  long  term  of  years ;  and 
during  this  time,  the  common  soldiers  indulge  in 
the  loosest  debaucheries,  and  the  officers  live  on  a 
species  of  tolerated  concubinage.  Hence  ensues 
such  a  general  relaxation  of  morals  and  domestic 
ties,  as  must  greatly  diminish  the  number  of  law- 


34  LOSS   OF    LIFE   BY   WAR. 

ful  marriages,  and  the  growth  of  a  legitimate  and 
virtuous  population. 

The  general  result  you  may  see  in  war  countries, 
compared  with  those  which  have  pursued  a  pacific 
policy.  Such  has  been  our  own  policy  ;  and  in  fifty 
years  we  have  quadrupled  our  population.  Such 
has  been  the  policy  of  China  ;  and,  with  a  territory 
equal  to  little  more  than  one-third  of  Europe,  she  has 
more  than  one  third  of  all  the  people  on  the  globe. 
While  our  own  population  was  doubling  every  quar 
ter  of  a  century,  that  of  Europe,  according  to  Adam 
Smith,  was  increasing  at  a  rate  so  slow  as  hardly  to 
reach  the  same  result  in  five  hundred  years ;  but 
since  the  downfall  of  Napoleon,  the  inhabitants  of 
Prussia  have  been  doubling  in  26  years,  those  of 
Great  Britain  in  42,  those  of  Russia  in  66,  and  those 
of  France  in  105.  During  this  period  of  general 
peace,  (1846,)  the  population  of  Europe,  with  the 
exception  of  Spain  and  Portugal  rent  with  civil 
wars,  has  probably  increased  more  than  in  any  two 
centuries  before  for  a  thousand  years.  The  sum  to 
tal  of  prevention  from  war,  we  cannot  of  course  es 
timate  or  even  conjecture ;  but,  had  this  custom 
never  existed,  there  might  hitherto  have  been  full 
twice  as  many  human  beings  on  the  globe,  with  four 
times  the  amount  of  happiness. 

War  also  introduces  a  variety  of  customs  destruc 
tive  to  life.  It  has  written  the  code  of  even  some 
Christian  states  in  blood.  In  England  itself  there 
were,  in  the  time  of  Blackstone,  no  less  than  160 
crimes  punishable  with  death  ;  and  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VIII.,  there  perished  by  the  hands  of  the 
executioner  72,000  persons!  War,  likewise,  orig 
inated  duelling,  judicial  combats,  and  other  prac 
tices  which  have  swept  off  immense  multitudes. 
In  certain  departments  of  France,  five,  six,  and 
even  ten  per  cent,  of  all  the  deaths  in  the  army  have 


LOSS   OF   LIFE    BY   WAR.  35 

some  years  been  occasioned  by  duelling,  that  spawn 
of  the  war  system  ! 

But  the  immediate,  destruction  of  life  by  war,  is 
vast  and  appalling.  Contemplate  the  thousands 
and  millions  of  its  agents — bold,  blood-thirsty  and 
reckless,  trained  with  all  possible  skill  to  the  trade 
of  human  butchery,  armed  for  this  purpose  with  in 
struments  the  most  terribly  effective,  plying  every 
art,  and  stretching  every  nerve  to  destroy  mankind, 
and  stimulated  to  desperation  by  the  promise  to 
success  of  the  highest  earthly  rewards  ;  and  can  you 
adequately  conceive  the  havoc  likely  to  ensue  ? 

Mark  the  incidental  loss  of  life.  In  transferring 
troops  from  one  country  to  another,  especially  to 
sultry  regions,  statesmen  coolly  calculate  on  losing 
every  third  man  !  In  certain  climates,  and  under 
certain  circumstances  in  every  climate,  it  requires 
only  a  few  brief  years  or  even  months  of  hardship, 
exposure  and  disease,  to  annihilate  whole  crews  or 
regiments  without  shedding  a  drop  of  blood. 

Let  us  quote  a  single  instance  of  the  fatal  effect 
of  climate.  "  The  climate,"  says  Lord  Colling  wood, 
"was  deadly,  and  no  constitution  could  resist  its 
effects.  At  San  Juan,"  near  the  Isthmus  of  Da- 
rien,  "  I  joined  the  ship,  and  succeeded  Lord  Nel 
son,  who  was  promoted  to  a  larger  ship  ;  but  he  had 
received  the  infection  of  the  climate  before  he  went 
from  the  port,  and  had  .a  fever  from  which  he  did 
not  recover  until  he  quitted  his  ship,  and  went  to 
England.  My  constitution  resisted  many  attacks, 
and  I  survived  most  of  my  ship's  company,  having 
buried,  in  four  months,  one  hundred  and  eighty  of 
the  two  hundred  that  composed  it ;"  a  loss  of  ninety 
per  cent,  from  the  climate  alone, !  "  Nor  was  mine  a 
singular  case ;  for  every  ship  that  was  long  there, 
suffered  in  the  same  degree.  The  transports'  men  all 
died ;  and  some  of  the  ships,  having  none  left  to 


36  LOSS   OF   LIFE   BY   WAR. 

take  care  of  them,  sunk  in  the  harbor.  Transport 
ships,  however,  were  not  wanted  ;  for  the  troops 
they  had  brought,  were  no  more — they  had  fallen, 
not  by  the  hand  of  an  enemy,  but  from  the  conta 
gion  of  the  climate." 

Deaths  in  the  army  and  navy,  from  hardship  or 
disease,  are  seldom  reported  ;  but  take  the  case 
(1845)  of  a  single  British  regiment  in  Scinde: 
"  The  wreck  of  this  unhappy  regiment  arrived  at 
Hyderabad  on  new-year's  day.  Only  one  man  was 
able  to  walk ;  96  men  had  died  in  ten  days,  and 
70  in  one  week  after  their  arrival:  there  were 
eighteen  funerals  in  one  day.  Since  the  first  of 
September,  they  had  lost  in  all  557  men,  women 
and  children.  Not  one  man  in  three  of  the  survi 
vors  will  ever  be  fit  for  field  service  in  India.  They 
will  be  sent  home  incurable  invalids,  or  drop  away 
one  by  one,  so  that  of  1100  men  on  the  roll  in  Oc 
tober,  1844,  not  200  will  remain  in  December, 
1845."  So  rapid,  says  an  English  paper  in  1842, 
is  the  waste  of  an  army  by  other  causes  than  the 
sword,  that  there  now  remain  of  one  of  the  regi 
ments  that  carried  Napoleon  to  his  tomb,  only  four 
men,  though  the  corps  then  consisted  of  1200. 

The  common  usage,  discipline  and  hardships  of 
soldiers,  prey  upon  them  like  murrain.  It  would 
seem  impossible  for  them  to  survive  some  of  their 
punishments  that  are  not  designed  to  take  life ;  and 
multitudes  die  either  by  the  process,  or  from  its 
immediate  effects.  The  ill  treatment  they  receive, 
frequently  drives  them  to  suicide ;  and  their  scanty 
clothing,  their  unwholesome  food,  their  unhealthy 
encampments,  their  want  of  shelter  and  bedding, 
their  repose  on  the  damp,  cold,  frozen  earth,  their 
exposures  on  duty,  day  and  night,  in  all  seasons,  all 
weathers,  and  every  clime,  cannot  fail  to  hurry 
countless  multitudes  to  the  grave. 


LOSS    OF    LIFE   BY   WAR.  37 

How  ma*iy  perish  from  such  causes,  we  eannot 
'conjecture;  but  in  the  Russian  campaign  of  1812, 
so  fatal  was  the  effect  of  hunger  and  fatigue,  ex 
posure  and  disease,  that  of  22,000  Bavarians,  though 
they  had  been  in  no  action,  only  11,000  lived  to 
reach  the  Duna,  and  the  very  flower  of  the  French 
and  the  allied  armies  perished.  A  division  of  the 
Russian  forces,  amounting  to  120,000  at  the  com 
mencement  of  the  pursuit,  could  not,  near  Warsaw, 
muster  35,000  ;  and  a  re-enforcement  of  10,000, 
that  had  marched  from  Wilna,  arrived  with  only 
1500,  of  whom  one  half  were  the  next  day  in  the 
hospitals.  Not  a  few  companies  were  utterly  anni 
hilated,  without  a  single  stroke  from  the  enemy  ! 

But  no  record  is  kept  of  peaceful  inhabitants 
who  perish  in  every  country  where  war  rages.  In 
Madrid  and  other  cities  of  Spain,  the  French,  in 
the  days  of  Napoleon,  forced  their  way  into  the 
houses  of  citizens,  bayouetted  all  within  that  chanced 
to  have  arms,  and  stationed  parties  of  cavalry  at  the 
different  outlets  of  the  town  to  cut  off  those  who 
should  try  to  escape.  In  Portugal  they  burnt 
villages  and  towns,  butchered  prisoners,  and  mas 
sacred  without  distinction  all  classes  of  society; 
and,  in  their  retreat  from  that  ill-fated  country, 
they  literally  strewed  the  roads  with  the  dead 
bodies  of  nobles  and  peasants,  of  women  and  chil 
dren,  and  priests,  all  put  to  death  like  so  many 
dogs.  In  the  single  province  of  La  Vendee,  there 
perished,  in  seven  or  eight  months,  952, OuO  of  the 
inhabitants,  besides  the  loss  of  the  Republicans  ;  in 
all,  more  than  1,000,000. 

Of  such  havoc  it  is  impossible  to  form  any  esti 
mate  or  conjecture  ;  but  we  know  that  war  has 
sometimes  entirely  depopulated  immense  districts. 
In  modern  as  well  as  ancient  times,  large  tracts 
have  been  left  so  utterly  desolate,  that  a  traveller 
4 


38  LOSS   OF   LIFE    BY   WAR. 

might  pass  from  village  to  village,  even  from  city  to 
city,  without  finding  a  solitary  inhabitant !  The 
war  of  1756,  waged  in  the  heart  of  Europe,  left  in 
one  instance  no  less  than  twenty  contiguous  villages 
without  a  single  man  or  beast!  The  Thirty  Yeartf 
war,  in  the  1 7  th  century,  reduced  the  population  of 
Germany  from  twelve  millions  to  four  millions, 
three-fourths  ;  and  that  of  Wirtemburg  from  500,000 
to  48,000,  more  than  nine-tenths !  Thirty  thousand 
villages  were  destroyed  ;  in  many  others  the  popu 
lation  entirely  died  out ;  and  over  districts,  once 
studded  with  towns  and  cities,  there  sprang  up  im 
mense  forests.  In  one  ancient  campaign,  50,000 
laborers  died  of  hunger ;  Hannibal  alone,  in  six 
teen  years,  plundered  no  less  than  four  hundred 
towns  ;  the  barbarous  invaders  of  the  Roman  Em 
pire  sometimes  swept  all  the  inhabitants  from  pro 
vince  after  province  ;  and  some  of  the  most  noto 
rious  conquerors  have,  like  Jenghiz-khan,  waged 
wars  of  utter  extermination,  and  butchered  thou 
sands  and  millions  of  unarmed  men,  women  and 
children,  in  cold  blood. 

Let  us  quote  the  testimony  of  an  eminent  re 
viewer  :  "  The  levies  of  soldiers  in  France,  during 
her  late  wars,  exceeded  four  millions ;  and  not  less 
than  three  millions  of  these,  on  the  lowest  calculation, 
perished  in  the  field,  the  hospital,  or  the  bivouac. 
If  to  these  we  add,  as  we  unquestionably  must,  at 
least  an  equal  number  out  of  the  ranks  of  their  an 
tagonists,  it  is  clear  that  not  less  than  six  millions 
of  human  beings,  in  the  course  of  twenty  years, 
perished  by  war  in  the  very  heart  of  civilized  Eu 
rope,  at  the  commencement  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury.  But  even  these  stupendous  numbers  give  us 
no  adequate  conception  of  the  destruction  of  human 
life  directly  consequent  on  the  wars  of  the  revolu 
tion  and  the  empire.  We  must  add  the  thousands 


LOSS    OF    LIFE    BY   WAR.  39 

who  perished  from  want,  outrage  and  exposure,  and 
the  hundreds  of  thousands  who  were  subsequently 
swept  away  by  the  ravages  of  that  pestilence  which 
took  its  rise  amid  the  retreat  from  Russia,  and  the 
crowded  garrisons  of  the  campaign  of  1813,  and  for 
several  years  afterwards  desolated  in  succession 
every  country  in  Europe." 

We  can  scarcely  glance  at  the  multitudes  that 
perish  in  sieges  and  hospitals.  In  the  latter  alone 
nearly  as  many  die  as  on  the  field  of  battle.  Look 
at  the  havoc  of  sieges.  In  that  of  Londonderry, 
1689,  there  perished  more  than  12,000  soldiers,  be 
sides  a  vast  number  of  the  inhabitants.  During  the 
siege  of  Paris,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  famine 
was  so  severe  that  mothers  ate  their  own  children, 
and  30,000  persons  died  of  hunger  alone.  In  the 
siege  of  Magdeburg,  1631,  more  than  5000  of  the 
slain  were  thrown  into  the  Elbe,  to  clear  the  streets, 
and  a  much  greater  number  had  been  consumed  in 
the  flames  ;  the  victims  of  famine,  disease  and  hard 
ship  could  not  be  reckoned ;  but  the  sum  total  of 
the  lost  was  estimated  at  30,000.  Such  was  the 
havoc  of  life  at  the  storming  of  Belgrade,  1717, 
that  "  the  Jews  were  compelled  to  throw  into  the 
Danube  the  bodies  of  12,000  slain,  merely  to  spare 
the  trouble  and  expense  of  burying  them."  In  the 
siege  of  Malplaquet  in  the  north-east  of  France, 
1709,  there  fell  on  both  sides  no  less  than  34,000 
soldiers  alone  The  storming  of  Ismail  by  Suwar- 
row,  1790,  cost  40,000  men.  In  the  siege  of  Ham 
burgh,  1813,  there  perished  15,000  of  the  garrison, 
besides  all  the  victims  among  the  inhabitants,  and 
the  besieging  army.  In  the  siege  of  Mexico,  more 
than  100,000  were  slain  in  battle,  and  upwards  of 
50,000  more  died  from  the  infection  of  putrefying 
carcasses.  The  siege  of  Vienna  sacrificed  70,000 
lives,  and  that  of  Ostend  1205000.  At  the  siege 


40  LOSS    OF    LIFE    BY    WAR. 

of  Acre,  by  the  crusaders,  300,000  fell;  ancient 
Carthage,  containing  700,000  inhabitants,  was  so 
utterly  destroyed,  that  not  a  single  edifice  was  left 
standing;  during  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  1,100,000 
persons  perished,  and  during  that  of  Troy,  accord 
ing  to  Burton,  not  less  than  946,000  Trojans,  and 
870,000  Greeks;  in  all,  1,816,000  for  a  worthless 
courtesan ! 

Mark  the  havoc  of  single  battles.  At  Durham, 
1346,  there  fell  15,000;  at  Halidonhill  and  Agin- 
court,  20,000  each  ;  at  Bautzen  and  Lepanto,  25,000 
each  ;  at  Austerlitz.  Jena  and  Lutzen,  30,000  each  ; 
at  Eylau,  60,000  ;  at  Waterloo  and  Quatre  Bras, 
one  engagement,  70,000 ;  at  Borodino,  80,000 ;  at 
Fontenoy,  100,000  ;  at  Yarmouth,  150,000  ;  at  Cha 
lons,  no  less  than  300,000  of  Attila's  army  alone ! 
The  Moors  in  Spain,  about  the  year  800,  lost  in  one 
battle  70,000 ;  in  another,  four  centuries  later, 
180,000,  besides  50,000  prisoners,  and  in  a  third, 
even  200,000.  Still  greater  was  the  carnage  in 
ancient  times.  At  Cannse,  70,000  fell.  The  Ko- 
mans  alone,  in  an  engagement  with  the  Cimbri  and 
Teutones.  lost  80,000.  Marius  slew,  in  one  battle, 
140,000  Gauls,  and  in  another,  290.000.  In  the 
battle  of  Issus,  between  Alexander  and  Darius, 
110,000  were  slain,  and  in  that  of  Arbela,  300.000. 
Julius  Caesar  once  annihilated  an  army  of  363,000 
Helvetians ;  in  a  battle  with  the  Usipetes,  he  slew 
400,000  ;  and  on  another  occasion,  he  massacred 
more  than  430,000  Germans, who  "had  crossed  the 
Rhine  with  their  herds,  and  flocks,  and  little  ones, 
in  quest  of  new  settlements."  The  Old  Testament 
records  an  instance,  (2  Chron.  xiii.  3-173)  where  one 
side  lost  500,000  lives ! 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  the  havoc  of  ancient 
warfare.  During  a  single  war  of  the  northern  bar 
barians  in  Africa,  no  less  than  five  millions,  accord' 


LOSS   OF    LIFE   BY    WAR.  41 

ing  to  Procopius,  perished  by  the  sword,  famine  and 
pestilence ;  and  in  the  war  of  twenty  years  waged 
by  Justinian  against  the  barbarous  hordes  that 
poured  into  Italy,  the  Goths  alone  are  supposed  to 
have  lost  more  than  fifteen  millions ! 

Look  at  two  cases  more.  The  army  of  Xerxes, 
according  to  Dr.  Dick,  "must  have  amounted  to 
5,283,320 ;"  arid,  if  the  attendants  were  only  one- 
third  as  great  as  common  at  the  present  day  in 
Eastern  countries,  the  sum  total  must  have  reached 
nearly  six  millions !  Yet  in  one  year  this  vast  mul 
titude  was  reduced  to  300,000  fighting  men  ;  and 
of  these  only  3000  escaped  destruction.  During 
the  thirteenth  century  arose  Jenghiz-khan,  and 
ravaged  the  heart  of  Asia.  On  the  plains  of  Nessa, 
he  shot  90,000  persons  in  cold  blood.  At  the 
storming  of  Kharasm,  he  massacred  200.000,  and 
sold  10J,0  00  for  slaves.  In  the  district  of  Herat, 
he  butchered  1,600,000,  and  in  two  cities  with  their 
dependencies,  1,760,000,  During  the  last  twenty- 
seven  years  of  his  long  reign,  he  is  said  to  have 
massacred  more  than  half  a  million  every  year  ;  and 
in  the  first  fourteen  years,  he  is  supposed  by  Chi 
nese  historians  to  have  destroyed  not  less  than 
eighteen  millions ;  a  sum  total  of  32,000,000  hu 
man  beings  sacrificed  in  forty-one  years  by  a  single 
hand  on  the  Moloch  shrine  of  war  ! 

Do  you  ask,  now,  for  an  epitome  of  the  havoc  war 
has  made  of  human  life  ?  In  the  Russian  campaign 
there  perished  in  less  than  six  months  nearly  half 
a  million  of  French  alone,  and  perhaps  as  many 
more  of  their  enemies.  Napoleon's  wars  sacrificed 
full  six  millions,  and  all  the  wars  consequent  on 
the  French  Revolution,  some  nine  or  ten  millions. 
The  Spaniards  are  said  to  have  destroyed  in  for 
ty-two  years  more  than  twelve  millions  of  Amer 
ican  Indians.  The  wars  in  the  time  of  Sesostris 
4* 


42  LOSS    OF    LIFE    BY    WAR. 

cost  15,000,000  lives;  those  of  Semiramis,  Cyras 
and  Alexander,  10,000,000  each;  those  of  Alexan 
der's  successors,  20,000,000.  Grecian  wars  sacri 
ficed  15,000,000;  Jewish  wars,  25,000,000;  the 
wars  of  the  twelve  Csesars,  30,000,000  in  all; 
the  wars  of  the  Romans  before  Julius  Caesar, 
60,000,000  ;  the  wars  of  the  Roman  Empire,  of  the 
Saracens  and  the  Turks,  60,000,000  each  ;  the  wars 
of  the  Reformation,  30,000,000 ;  those  of  the  Mid 
dle  Ages,  and  the  nine  Crusades  in  two  centuries, 
40,000,000  each  ;  those  of  the  Tartars,  80,000,000  ; 
those  of  Africa,  100,000,000  !  "  If  we  take  into  con 
sideration,"  says  the  learned  Dr.  Dick, "  the  num 
ber  not  only  of  those  who  have  fallen  in  battle,  but 
of  those  who  have  perished  through  the  natural  con 
sequences  of  war,  it  will  not  perhaps  be  overrating 
the  destruction  of  human  life,  if  we  affirm,  that  one- 
tenth  of  the  human  race  has  been  destroyed  by  the 
ravages  of  war  ;  and,  according  to  this  estimate, 
more  than  fourteen  thousand  millions  of  human  be 
ings  have  been  slaughtered  in  war  since  the  begin 
ning  of  the  world."  Edmund  Burke  went  still  fur 
ther,  and  reckoned  the  sum  total  of  its  ravages 
from  the  first,  at  no  less  than  THIRTY-FIVE  THOU 
SAND  MILLIONS i 1 


PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  43 


CHAPTER  III. 

PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR. 

SECTION  I 

GENERAL    TREATMENT   OF    WARRIORS. 

WAR  begins  its  work  of  cruelty  and  outrage  with 
its  own  agents.  Think  of  the  violence  practised  in 
procuring  seamen  and  soldiers.  Where  the  war- 
spirit  is  predominant,  they  are  forced  into  the  army 
and  navy  at  the  pleasure  of  their  rulers,  and  doomed 
to  all  the  hardships,  perils  and  sufferings  of  war,  with 
little  or  no  hope  of  release  till  death.  Just  imagine 
the  process  of  manning  a  fleet  or  an  army.  In 
some  countries,  they  call  first  for  volunteers ;  yet 
most  of  these  are  obtained  by  false  representations, 
or  the  use  of  intoxicating  drinks.  The  beardless 
boy,  the  thriftless  husband,  the  reckless,  desperate 
adventurer,  bereft  of  reason  by  the  maddening  bowl, 
are  coaxed  to  the  fatal  pledge,  and  then  hurried 
away  from  home  and  friends  to  the  camp  or  the 
war-ship,  and  forced  into  the  work  of  human  butch 
ery  as  the  business  of  their  life.  Most  commonly, 
however,  the  ranks  of  war  are  filled  by  some  species 
of  compulsion.  In  England  press-gangs,  in  a  time 
of  war.  prowl  around  every  sea-port,  to  seize  on  any 
seaman,  if  not  upon  any  landsman,  they  may  chance 
to  find,  and  drag  him,  handcuffed  and  manacled, 
on  board  some  war-ship.  Not  a  poor  man  in  the 
British  empire  is  safe  from  this  species  of  outrage 
ous  oppression ;  and  yet  has  the  practice  been  con 
tinued  for  so  many  ages  as  now  to  form  a  part  of 


44  PERSONAL   SUFFERINGS   FROM   WAR. 

the  common  law  of  the  land,  and  to  be  justified  not 
only  by  popular  leaders  in  Parliament,  but  by  grave, 
upright  judges,  the  brightest  luminaries  of  English 
law,  as  indispensable  to  her  war-system.  On  the 
continent  of  Europe,  conscription  is  the  usual  pro 
cess.  Every  monarch  there  claims  the  right  to 
force  into  his  service  every  well-formed  man  in  his 
dominions  ;  and  so  far  did  Frederic  the  Great  carry 
this  species  of  tyranny,  that  it  became  hazardous 
for  any  able-bodied  man  to  travel  in  Prussia,  and 
even  some  foreigners  of  distinction  were  dragged 
into  hi-s  army  without  reparation  or  apology. 

One  mode  of  procuring  seamen  in  the  United 
States  is  called  crimping.  <  The  crimp  persuades  the 
seaman  by  fine  stories  to  ship,  tells  him  he  will  have 
three  months'  advance,  gets  his  name  affixed  to  the 
articles,  and,  if  he  is  what  is  called  a  green  hand, 
induces  him  to  go  on  board  the  ship  for  the  purpose 
of  just  looking  at  her.  While  there,  the  crimp  pro 
duces  a  certificate  of  his  having  entered  at  the  ren 
dezvous  ;  and  the  poor  fellow  is  not  permitted  again 
to  go  on  shore.  His  decoyer  then  brings  against 
him  a  bill  amounting  to  nearly  or  quite  the  whole 
of  his  three  months'  advance.  This  result  is  gene 
rally  reached  through  the  intoxicating  bowl,  a  vile 
decoction  of  rum  and  sugar,  mixed  sometimes  with 
opium  or  some  other  drug,  that  produces  a  drunken 
sleep,  and  in  that  state  the  recruits  are  frequently 
carried  on  board.' 

Do  you  know  how  soldiers  are  generally  treated? 
They  are  subjected  to  the  most  iron-hearted  despo 
tism  on  earth  ;  to  a  bondage  far  worse  thcnn  that  of  a 
Turkish  peasant,  or  a  domestic  slave.  They  are  at 
the  mercy  of  every  superior,  from  the  commander- 
in-chief  down  to  the  pettiest  officer.  They  have 
little  or  no  protection  against  hourly  abuse,  insult 
and  violence,  nor  any  adequate  security  for  life 


PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    OF    WAR.  45 

itself,  against  the  lawless  passions  of  officers  seldom 
called  to  account  in  war  for  the  worst  treatment  of 
soldiers.  "  It  is  generally  understood."  says  a  very 
competent  witness,  "  that  the  word  of  a  commanding 
officer  is  law.  He  can  punish  at  will ;  his  authority 
is  well  nigh  absolute  ;  for  the  process  of  redress  for 
a  common  sailor,  under  any  ordinary  circumstances, 
by  an  appeal  to  a  court-martial,  would  be  so  tardy 
and  dubious,  as  hardly  to  be  considered  a  qualifica 
tion  of  the  statement,  that  the  system  is  one  of  un 
limited  despotism."  "  Desperation,"  says  another, 
"  seems  to  be  the  parent  of  many  of  those  acts  of 
insubordination  which  expose  soldiers  to  punish 
ment  ;  and  this  desperation  is  apparently  induced 
by  the  severe  restraints  to  which  they  are  subjected, 
joined  with  the  painful  conviction,  that  their  suffer 
ings  can  end  only  with  their  lives.  Of  this  we  have 
fearful  evidence  in  the  fact,  that  one  death  out  of 
every  twenty  in  the  cavalry  regiments  (English)  is 
from  suicide." 

Look  at  the  provisions  usually  made  for  warriors. 
Go  to  a  camp  or  a  fleet,  and  there  see  human  life 
rotting  in  masses  into  the  grave.  When  seized 
with  sickness,  there  is  little  or  no  care  taken  of 
them  ;  no  mother,  wife  or  sister  near  to  tend  their 
couch  ;  no  pillow  of  down  to  ease  their  aching  head  ; 
no  escape  from  pinching  cold,  or  scorching  heat  j 
no  shelter  from  howling  blasts,  or  drenching  rains. 
Thus  they  "languish  in  tents,  and  ships,  amid 
damps  and  putrefaction,  pale,  torpid,  and  spiritless ; 
gasping  and  groaning  unpitied  among  men  rendered 
obdurate  by  long  continuance  of  hopeless  misery, 
and  are  at  last  whelmed  in  pits,  or  heaved  into  the 
ocean,  without  notice  or  remembrance." 

Glance,  also,  at  their  food,  often  provided  by 
avaricious,  unprincipled  contractors  with  less  care 
than  a  farmer  ordinarily  takes  in  feeding  his  swine ! 


46  PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM   WAR. 

It  has  been  sometimes  so  intolerably  bad  as  to  be 
refused  even  by  wretches  dying  with  hunger ;  and 
an  eminent  physician  once  testified  under  oath  be 
fore  the  British  Parliament,  that  in  the  military 
hospitals  of  Aracan,  "  monstrous  reptiles,  engender 
ed  in  the  mass  of  filth  which  the  soldiers  had  been 
obliged  to  take  for  food,  were  often  seen  crawling 
from  the  mouths  of  the  sick  !" 

Let  us  select  a  specimen  or  two  of  the  treatment 
of  prisoners.  '  Our  numbers,'  says  one  of  the  suf 
ferers,  a  Frenchman  in  Spain,  'thinned  rapidly  on 
the  way.  Fatigue  and  insufficient  provision  ren 
dered  many  incapable  of  rising  to  renew  their  march 
after  a  night's  halt ;  and  the  dawn  exhibited  to  us 
the  stiffened  limbs  of  such  as  death  had  released 
from  further  earthly  trouble.  The  survivors  were 
gaunt  and  emaciated  ;  and  frequently  would  a  poor 
fellow  drop  to  the  ground  in  the  extremity  of  weari 
ness  and  despair.  No  effort  was  made  to  assist 
these  sufferers ;  but  they  were  either  left  behind 
to  perish,  or  bayonetted  on  the  spot.  On  our  arri 
val  at  St.  Lucar,  we  were  thrown,  some  of  us  into 
prison-ships,  and  others  into  stinking  casements. 
Here  the  extremity  of  our  anguish  exceeded  all 
powers  of  description.  With  scarce  strength  enough 
to  crawl  to  our  detestable  dungeons,  many  of  us 
reached  them  only  to  lie  down,  and  die  broken 
hearted  ;  and  the  fare  was  so  wretched  as  to  be  re 
fused  in  many  cases,  even  by  men  fainting  with 
weariness,  and  famished  with  hunger.  We  were 
not  only  crowded  together  like  cattle  amidst  vermin 
and  pestilential  effluvia,  but  treated  with  su-ch  un 
relenting  severity,  that  many  of  my  companions 
sought  refuge  from  their  misery  by  plunging  into 
the  sea.  When  landed,  at  length,  on  the  desolate 
island  of  Cabrera,  we  wtre  exposed  to  every  species 
of  privation.  Without  shelter,  or  sufficient  cloth- 


PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR.      47 

ing,  or  a  regular  supply  of  food,  we  sometimes 
resorted  to  grass  and  dust  to  answer  the  wants  of 
nature.  A  great  many  died  ;  and  we  buried  them 
immediately  in  the  sea,  under  the  horrible  appre 
hension  that,  should  their  bodies  remain  before  us, 
the  savage  longings  of  the  cannibal  would  rise  in 
our  hearts.  A  cuirassier  was  in  fact  killed  for  food 
by  a  Pole,  who  was  discovered  and  shot,  confessing 
he  had  before  done  the  same  by  two  other  com 
rades.' 


MILITARY   PUNISHMENTS 

I  would  gladly  excuse  myself  from  a  theme  so 
painful  and  disgusting  as  this ;  but  fidelity  to  truth 
requires  me  to  give  from  eye-witnesses  a  few  speci 
mens  of  the  barbarous  and  brutal  severity  with 
which  soldiers  are  punished  for  the  slightest  of 
fences. 

'  I  have  heard,'  says  the  late  William  Ladd,  •  the 
captain  of  a  British  man-of-war  order  one  of  his 
men  to  receive  a  dozen  lashes  for  having  on  blue 
trowsers.  Sailors  are  subject  every  moment  of  their 
lives,  not  only  to  a  torrent  of  imprecations  and 
curses,  but  to  the  boatswain's  cat-o'-nine-tails.  The 
least  complaint  brings  them  to  the  gangway ;  and 
not  unfrequently  is  a  sailor  sentenced  to  receive 
five  hundred  and  even  a  thousand  lashes,  to  be  in 
flicted  day  after  day  as  he  may  be  able  to  bear  them. 
He  is  attended  at  each  whipping  by  a  surgeon,  to 
determine  how  much  he  can  bear  without  immedi 
ate  danger  to  life ;  and  often  does  the  flagellation 
proceed  till  the  victim  faints,  and  then  he  is  respited 


48      PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR. 

to  renew  his  sufferings  another  day.  This  account  I 
had  from  a  British  surgeon.  I  have  often  shudder 
ed  at  the  recital  of  the  whippings  through  the  fleet, 
the  keel-hauling,  the  spread  eagle,  the  gagging,  the 
handcuffing,  and  other  punishments  inflicted  on 
sailors  who  have  been  trepanned  or  forced  into  a 
service  from  which  death  is  the  only  release.' 

"  I  have  been,"  says  an  American  seaman,  "  seve 
ral  years  in  the  service,  and  have  served  in  three 
different  ships ;  and  I  can  truly  say,  I  have  seen 
quite  as  much  flogging  in  a  year  on  board  the  last 
ship,  as  there  ever  was  on  a  southern  plantation 
during  the  same  space  of  time.  I  have  seen  seamen 
flogged  with  the  cat-o'-nine-tails  until  the  blood  ran 
down  through  their  pantaloons,  and  formed  little 
puddles  on  the  ship's  deck."  John  Randolph  declar 
ed  in  Congress  he  had  witnessed,  in  a  few  months, 
more  flogging  on  board  the  man-of-war  which  carried 
him  to  Russia,  than  had  taken  place  in  ten  years  on 
his  plantation,  where  there  had  been  five  hundred 
slaves. 

"  The  worst  species  of  punishment,"  says  Leech, 
"  is  flogging  through  the  fleet.  After  the  offender  is 
sentenced,  he  is  conducted  into  the  ship's  launch — 
a  large  boat — which  has  been  previously  rigged  up 
with  poles  and  grating,  to  which  he  is  seized  up,  and 
attended  by  the  ship's  surgeon,  to  decide  when  the 
power  of  nature's  endurance  has  been  taxed  to  its  ut 
most.  A  boat  from  every  ship  in  the  fleet  is  also  pres 
ent,  each  carrying  one  or  two  officers,  and  two  marines 
fully  armed.  These  boats  are  connected  by  tow-lines 
to  the  launch.  These  preparations  made,  the  crew 
of  the  victim's  ship  are  ordered  to  man  the  rigging, 
while  the  boatswain  commences  the  tragedy.  When 
he  has  administered  one,  two  or  three  dozen  lashes, 
according  to  the  number  of  ships  in  the  fleet,  the  pris 
oner's  shirt  is  thrown  over  his  gory  back;  the  boat- 


PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  49 

swam  returns  on  board,  the  hands  are  piped  down,  the 
drummer  beats  a  mournful  melody  called  the  rogue's 
inarch,  and  the  melancholy  procession  moves  on. 
Arriving  at  the  side  of  another  ship,  the  brutal 
scene  is  repeated,  until  every  crew  in  the  fleet  has 
witnessed  it,  and  from  one  to  three  hundred  lashes 
have  lacerated  the  back  of  the  broken-spirited  tar 
to  a  bleeding  pulp.  He  is  then  placed  under  the 
surgeon's  care,  to  be  fitted  for  duty — a  ruined  man 
— broken  in  spirit !  all  sense  of  self-respect  gone 
forever !  If  he  survive,  it  is  only  to  be  a  hopeless 
wreck,  a  living,  walking  shadow  of  his  former  self." 
Nor  is  the  punishment  of  soldiers  much  less  re 
volting.  i  One  day,'  says  Ladd,  '  I  was  on  parade 
when  preparation  was  making  for  a  kind  of  punish 
ment  called  the  gauntlet.  All  the  soldiers  in  the 
regiment  were  placed  in  two  ranks,  facing  each 
other,  and  about  five  feet  apart.  To  each  soldier 
was  given  a  stick  three  feet  long,  or  more.  I  could 
not  bear  to  stay  and  witness  the  execution ;  but  I 
was  afterwards  informed  that  the  culprit,  stripped 
naked  to  his  waist,  arid  his  hands  tied  before  him, 
was  marched  between  the  ranks,  preceded  by  a 
soldier  walking  backwards  with  a  bayonet  at  the 
sufferer's  breast,  to  keep  him  from  going  too  fast. 
In  this  way  he  was  struck  once  by  every  soldier,  offi 
cers  going  down  on  the  outside  of  the  ranks  to  see 
that  each  man  did  his  duty !  and,  if  any  one  was 
merely  suspected  of  not  laying  on  hard  enough,  he 
received  over  his  own  head  a  blow  from  the  officer's 
cane.  Sometimes  the  criminal  has  to  retrace  his 
steps ;  and,  as  a  regiment  consists  of  six  hundred 
or  a  thousand  men,  and  some  German  regiments  of 
two  thousand,  he  must  receive  from  twelve  hundred 
to  two  or  even  four  thousand  blows !  The  punish 
ment  often  proves  fatal ;  and  to  such  a  pitch  of 
despair  were  those  soldiers  carried  by  their  suffer- 


50      PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR. 

ings,  that  many  of  them  committed  suicide,  and 
one  poor  fellow  shot  himself  near  my  lodgings/ 

'Flogging  is  certainly  a  tremendous  punishment. 
The  delinquent  is  stripped  to  the  waist,  tied  up  by 
his  hands,  and  then  flogged  with  a  whip  having  nine 
lashes,  with  three  knots  each,  so  that  each  stroks 
makes  twenty-seven  wounds ;  if  a  capital  sentence 
is  awarded,  he  receives  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  of  these  stripes ;  and,  at  every  twenty-five 
strokes,  the  drummer,  who  inflicts  them,  is  changed, 
in  order  to  insure  a  more  energetic  enforcement  of 
the  penalty.  This  punishment  occurs  very  fre 
quently  in  the  English  army,  drunkenness  and  other 
acts  of  insubordination  being  often  punished  with 
from  one  to  two  hundred  lashes.' 

"  One  wintry  morn,"  says  another  eye-witness, 
"  when  the  bleak  wind  whistled  along  the  ranks  of 
a  regiment  paraded  to  see  corporal  punishment  in 
flicted,  every  eye  was  turned  in  pity  towards  the 
delinquent" — his  offence  was  drunkenness — "  until 
the  commanding  officer,  with  stentorian  lungs,  cried 
out,  '  Strip,  sir.'  The  morning  was  so  bitterly  cold, 
that  the  mere  exposure  of  a  man's  naked  body  was 
itself  a  severe  punishment.  When  the  offender  was 
tied,  or  rather  hung,  up  by  the  hands,  his  back,  from 
intense  cold  and  previous  flogging,  exhibited  a  com 
plete  black-and-blue  appearance.  On  the  first  lash, 
the  blood  spirted  out  several  yards;  and,  after  he 
had  received  fifty,  his  back,  from  the  neck  to  the 
waist,  was  one  continued  stream  of  blood.  When 
taken  down,  he  staggered,  and  fell  to  the  ground. 
The  poor  man  never  looked  up  again  ;  his  prospects 
as  a  soldier  were  utterly  destroyed ;  and  so  keenly 
did  his  degradation  prey  upon  his  spirits,  that  he  at 
length  shot  himself  in  his  barrack-room.' 

I  will  now  give  a  specimen  from  our  own  country. 
In  18 14,  a  soldier  was  shot  at  Greenbugh,  New  York, 


PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR.      51 

for  going  thirty  or  forty  miles  from  the  camp,  without 
leave,  to  visit  his  wife  arid  three  small  children. 
After  the  usual  preliminaries  in  such  cases,  his  coffin, 
&  box  of  rough  pine  boards,  was  borne  before  him  on 
the  shoulders  of  two  men  to  the  place  of  execution. 
He  wore,  as  a  winding-sheet,  a  white  cotton  gown, 
having  over  the  place  of  his  heart  the  black  image 
of  a  heart,  as  a  mark  for  the  executioners  to  aim  at. 
His  countenance  was  as  pale  as  his  winding-sheet, 
and  his  whole  frame  trembled  with  agony.  His 
grave  was  dug,  the  coffin  placed  by  his  side,  and 
the  deserter,  with  a  cap  drawn  over  his  eyes,  re 
quired  to  kneel  upon  the  lid.  At  this  signal,  the 
eight  soldiers,  drawn  by  lot  for  the  bloody  deed, 
stepped  forward  within  two  rods  of  their  victim  ; 
and,  at  another  signal  from  the  officer,  all  fired  at 
the  same  instant.  The  miserable  man,  with  a  hor 
rid  scream,  leaped  from  the  earth,  and  fell  between 
his  coffin  and  his  grave.  The  sergeant,  to  insure 
immediate  death,  shot  him  through  the  head,  hold 
ing  his  musket  so  near  that  the  cap  took  fire ;  and 
there  the  body  lay,  with  the  head  sending  forth  the 
mingled  fumes  of  burning  cotton  and  hair.  The 
soldiers,  after  passing  close  by  the  corpse  in  a  line 
to  let  every  one  see  for  himself  the  fate  of  a  desert 
er,  marched  back  to  the  merry  notes  of  Yankee 
Doodle !  and  all  the  officers  were  immediately  in 
vited  to  the  quarters  of  the  commander,  and  treated 
with  grog !  ! 

I  will  quote  a  recent  case  from  England.  "  On 
the  '20th  of  June,  1839,  the  Tower  of  London  and 
its  environs  were  thrown  into  great  excitement  by 
the  flogging  of  two  privates  for  insulting  non-commis 
sioned  officers  !  One  was  sentenced  to  receive  one 
hundred  lashes  with  the  cat-o'-nine-tails,  and  the 
other  one  hundred  and  fifty.  The  time  chosen  was 
ten  o'clock  ;  the  place  the  most  public  in  the  Tower. 


52      PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR. 

The  first  man  brought  out,  was  a  find  young  man, 
named  Jarman,  whose  crime  was  insulting  his  ser 
geant.  He  was  secured  to  the  halberts  by  thin 
cords,  which  severely  cut  his  flesh  ;  and  the  dread 
ful  and  beastly  infliction  commenced.  He  received 
his  punishment  without  uttering  a  word  or  a  groan, 
although  the  punishment  was  unusually  severe,  the 
drummers  being  changed  every  ten  lashes,  instead 
of  twenty-five  as  heretofore,  and  the  cat,  the  instru 
ment  of  punishment,  very  heavy.  After  he  had 
received  the  hundred  lashes,  or  nine  hundred  stripes, 
his  back  presented  a  mangled  appearance,  and  the 
blood  poured  down  his  person. 

"As  soon  as  the  first  man  left  the  square,  the 
second  man,  Slade,  a  much  slighter  person  than  the 
other,  was  called  to  the  front.  He  was  sentenced 
to  receive  one  hundred  and  fifty  lashes,  or  one  thou 
sand  three  hundred  and  fifty  stripes.  It  was  evi 
dent  he  did  not  possess  the  nerve  of  the  other  man  ; 
he  shook  so  violently  that  he  was  scarcely  able  to 
pull  his  jacket  off.  and  his  terror  was  evident  to  all. 
Upon  being  tied  up,  he  shook  from  head  to  foot ;  and 
the  moment  he  was  struck,  he  began  to  shriek  loud 
ly,  and  earnestly  called  out  '  mercy,  mercy  !'  which 
were  heard  very  distinctly  all  over  the  Tower.  The 
cat  fell  with  double  force  on  his  back,  owing  to  its  be 
ing  wetted  with  the  blood  of  the  other  man.  Slacle  no 
soonor  began  to  call  out  than  the  drums  were  beaten 
to  stifle  his  cries,  and  re-echoed  among  the  walls. 
When  about  seventy  or  eighty  lashes  had  been  in 
flicted,  the  poor  fellow's  head  fell  on  his  shoulder, 
and  it  was  supposed  he  had  fainted  ;  but  such  was 
not  the  case,  as  the  commanding  officer  walked  up 
to  the  triangle,  and,  on  looking  him  in  the  face, 
ordered  the  drummer  to  proceed.  At  this  time, 
with  the  exception  of  the  drummers  who  were  se 
lected  to  flog,  it  took  all  the  others  to  secure  him, 


PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR.      53 

his  back  being  literally  cut  to  pieces  from  his  neck 
to  his  loins.  His  cries  for  mercy  were  unavailing, 
until  one  hundred  lashes  had  been  inflicted,  when 
it  was  found  he  was  unable  to  bear  any  more. 
He  was  led  away  between  two  of  his  comrades,  a 
truly  shocking  spectacle  of  suffering  humanity. 
Several  men  fainted  away ;  and  we  could  mention 
the  names  of  several  officers  who  did  have  humanity 
enough  to  loosen  the  stocks  and  coats  of  several 
privates.  Many  clerks  and  others  of  the  ordnance 
department,  witnessed  part  of  the  punishment,  but, 
to  use  their  own  words,  were  unable  to  stand  it  out. 
The  lady  of  the  resident  governor  happened  to  go  to 
her  window,  and,  hearing  the  cries  of  Slade,  fell  into 
hysterics,  and  the  whole  family  were  for  some  time 
in  great  confusion.  Several  respectable  civilians 
expressed  their  indignation,  and  said  they  would 
not  live  in  the  Tower,  if  such  scenes  were  repeated." 

We  might  quote  cases  still  more  recent,  and 
equally  revolting ;  but  let  us  glance  at  the  acknowl 
edged  effects  of  such  punishments.  A  British  offi 
cer  says,  "  Men  have  declared  to  me,  that  the  sensa 
tion  experienced  at  each  lash,  was  as  if  the  talons 
of  a  hawk  were  tearing  the  flesh  off  their  bones !" 
Sir  Charles  Napier  says,  "  I  have  seen  many  hun 
dreds  of  men  flogged,  and  have  always  observed 
that,  when  the  skin  is  thoroughly  cut  up  or  flayed  off) 
the  great  pain  subsides,  and  they  bear  the  remain 
der  without  a  groan.  They  will  often  lie  as  with 
out  life,  and  the  drummers  appear  to  be  flogging  a 
lump  of  raw  flesh" 

"  I  remember,"  says  an  English  military  writer, 
"  attending  the  punishment  of  a  man  in  1808.  He 
was  sentenced  to  receive  1000  lashes,  but  was  taken 
down  upon  receiving  250.  After  being  cured,  he 
was  again  brought  out  to  receive  the  remainder ; 
but  the  first  few  lashes  tore  open  the  newly  cica- 
5* 


54      PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR. 

trized  skin  so  mucli,  that  his  back  became  instantly 
covered  with  blood  flowing  downward  under  his 
clothes,  and  he  was  taken  down  before  he  had  re 
ceived  forty  lashes." 

Let  us  hear  a  few  cases  from  Dr  Hamilton,  an 
English  military  surgeon.  "  Henley,  for  desertion, 
received  200  lashes  only  ;  an  acute  inflammation  fol 
lowed,  and  the  back  sloughed.  When  the  wounds 
were  cleaned,  and  the  sloughed  integuments  re 
moved,  the  back-bone,  and  part  of  the  shoulder- 
bone,  were  laid  bare  ;  and  it  was  upwards  of  seven 
months  before  he  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able 
to  do  his  duty. — Lately  a  soldier,  not  far  from  the  me 
tropolis,  received  400  lashes ;  he  scorned  to  flinch 
for  some  time,  till  by  a  repetition  of  stripes  he 
groaned  and  died! — In  1803,  at  Chatham,  a  pri 
vate,  having  been  found  asleep  at  his  post,  was  sen 
tenced  to  be  flogged.  He  was  a  fine-looking  lad, 
and  bore  an  excellent  character.  The  officers  were 
much  interested  in  his  behalf,  and  endeavored,  but 
without  success,  to  prevail  on  the  general  in  com 
mand  to  give  his  case  a  favorable  consideration. 
During  the  infliction  I  saw  the  drum-major  strike 
a  drummer  to  the  ground  for  not  laying  on  the 
lashes  hard  enough.  The  man's  back  became  black 
as  the  darkest  mahogany,  and  greatly  swollen. 
After  receiving  only  229  lashes,  he  was  taken  down 
and  sent  to  the  hospital,  where  he  died  in  eight 
days. — Although  few  or  none  die  immediately  from 
punishments  moderately  inflicted,  I  know  from  expe 
rience  in  the  service,  that  constitutions  have  been 
considerably  impaired  by  them.  We  sometimes 
find  the  body  melt  away  into  a  spectre  of  skin  and 
bone  from  the  large  suppurations  that  have  follow 
ed  ;  nor  were  they  ever  afterwards,  as  long  as  I 
knew  them,  able  to  bear  the  same  hardships  as 
before,  or  the  same  exposure  to  disease." 


IERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  65 


SECTION  III. 

MARCHES. 

THE  sufferings  incident  to  marches  are  various, 
and  exceedingly  destructive  to  life.  It  cannot  be 
otherwise  ;  for  soldiers,  if  not  entirely  exhausted  by 
disease,  are  obliged  in  all  seasons  to  brave  all  weath 
ers  without  a  screen  against  heat,  or  cold,  or  storm, 
and  to  encamp  on  the  damp  or  frozen  earth,  some 
times  on  ice  or  snow,  with  only  a  tent  at  best 
stretched  over  them,  and  a  single  blanket  wrapped 
around  them. 

No  precaution  can  prevent  a  vast  amount  of 
hardship  and  suffering  from  this  source.  Look  at 
a  single  case  even  in  our  war  with  Mexico.  "  From 
Las  Lomitas,"  says  one  of  the  men,  "  we  marched, 
June  30th,  to  Ranchita ;  but,  the  woods  being  very 
wet  and  muddy,  we  were  compelled  in  many  places 
to  march  through  mud  up  to  our  middle ;  and,  as 
many  of  us  lost  our  shoes  in  the  mud,  and  could  not 
draw  them  out,  we  were  obliged  to  continue  our 
march,  barefooted,  through  a  country  where  the 
prickly  pear  abounds.  At  length,  with  much  suf 
fering,  we  reached  Ranchita,  where  we  remained 
three  days  without  tents,  or  any  of  our  baggage, 
and  with  but  one  day's  rations,  which  soon  gave 
out,  and  left  us  to  live  on  fresh  beef  without  bread 
or  salt.  July  2,  we  were  ordered  to  march  for 
Matamoras ;  and,  when  within  two  miles  of  that 
place,  we  encamped  for  the  night,  if  throwing  down 
on  the  ground  a  blanket,  and  then  throwing  your 
self  down  upon  that,  may  be  called  encamping. 
The  next  day  at  dawn  we  were  again  put  under 
march,  and  led  to  Matamoras  through  a  swamp, 


66  PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAE 

where  the  mud  was  up  to  our  knees  all  the  way. 
The  day  following  we  were  ordered  to  Jannita,  and 
compelled  to  travel  through  a  country  equally  bad. 
Having  bivouacked  here  three  days,  waiting  for  our 
tents  and  baggage,  we  began  our  march  anew,  and 
continued  it  till  late  at  night,  when  we  reached  a 
low  swampy  piece  of  country.  Our  colonel  rode 
forward  to  explore  the  way,  but  soon  returned  drip 
ping  from  head  to  foot,  his  horse  having  found  a 
hole  under  the  water  into  which  he  precipitated 
himself  and  his  rider.  Here  we  were  obliged  to 
bivouac  for  the  night;  and  in  the  morning  every 
man  refused  to  stir  a  step,  until  the  colonel  led 
the  way  on  foot,  when  we  all  dashed  into  the  water 
after  him,  and  had  to  plod  for  two  miles  through 
the  water,  in  many  places  up  to  our  arm-pits,  and 
nowhere  less  than  to  our  knees."  The  amount  of 
such  hardships  may  be  inferred  from  their  effects. 
"  The  ranks  of  our  regiment,"  says  one,  "  have  been 
terribly  thinned.  We  marched  across  the  Chata- 
hooehe  with  910  men  ;  and  to-day  the  regiment,  all 
told,  numbers  barely  600,  and  scarcely  that."  Says 
another,  "  One  regiment  left  Corpus  Christi  with 
500  men.  It  now  parades  only  138,  while  another 
musters  only  164." 

Take  a  very  common  specimen  from  the  Peninsu 
lar  war.  "  Every  day  "  says  a  young  Scotch  soldier, 
"  we  were  either  on  guard,  or  on  fatigue.  We  were 
not  a  night  in  bed  out  of  two  during  all  the  time  we 
remained  there.  Besides,  the  weather  was  dread 
ful  ;  we  had  always  either  snow  or  hail,  the  latter 
often  as  large  as  nuts ;  and  we  were  forced  to  put 
our  knapsacks  on  our  heads  to  protect  us  from  its 
yiolence.  The  frost  was  most  severe,  accompanied 
by  high  winds.  Often  for  whole  days  and  nights 
we  could  not  get  a  tent  to  stand ;  many  of  us  were 


PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM   WAR.  57 

frost-bitten,  and  others  were  found  dead  at  their 
posts.  On  our  march,  the  rain  poured  in  torrents ; 
and  melted  snow  was  half-knee  deep  in  many  places, 
and  stained  by  the  blood  that  flowed  from  our 
bruised  and  wounded  feet.  There  was  nothing  to 
sustain  our  famished  bodies,  or  shelter  them  from 
the  rain  or  snow.  We  were  either  drenched  with 
rain,  or  crackling  with  ice.  Fuel  we  could  find 
none.  The  sick  and  the  wounded  whom  we  had 
been  still  enabled  with  our  own  hands  to  drag  along 
with  us  in  wagons,  were  now  left  to  perish  in  the 
snow.  The  road  was  one  line  of  bloody  foot-marks 
from  the  sore  feet  of  the  men ;  and  on  its  sides  lay 
the  dead  and  the  dying." 

The  march  of  the  French  both  to  and  from  Mos 
cow,  was  horrible  beyond  description.  "  Overwhelm 
ed  with  whirlwinds  of  snow,"  says  Labaume,  "  the 
soldiers  could  not  distinguish  the  road  from  the 
ditches,  and  often  fell  into  the  latter,  which  served 
them  for  a  tomb.  Others,  eager  to  press  forward, 
dragged  themselves  along.  Badly  clothed  and  shod, 
having  nothing  to  eat  or  drink,  groaning  and  shiv 
ering  with  the  cold,  they  gave  no  assistance,  and 
showed  no  signs  of  compassion  to  those  who,  sinking 
from  weakness,  expired  around  them.  Many  of 
these  miserable  creatures  struggled  hard  in  the  ago 
nies  of  death.  Some,  in  the  most  affecting  manner, 
bade  adieu  to  their  brethren  in  arms,  and  others 
with  their  last  breath  pronounced  the  name  of  their 
mother  and  their  country.  Stretched  on  the  road, 
we  could  only  see  the  heaps  of  snow  that  covered 
them,  and  formed  undulations  in  their  route  like 
those  iu  a  grave-yard.  Flocks  of  ravens  flew  over  our 
heads  croaking  ominously  ;  and  troops  of  dogs,  which 
had  followed  us  all  the  way  from  Moscow,  and  lived 
solely  on  our  bloody  remains,  howled  around  us,  as 
if  impatient  for  the  moment  when  we  should  become 


58  PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM 

their  prey,  and  often  contended  with  the  soldiers 
for  the  dead  horses  which  were  left  on  the  road." 

Labaume,  after  describing  the  passage  of  the  Vop, 
in  the  retreat  from  Moscow,  continues :  "  The  last 
night  had  been  dreadful.  To  form  an  idea  of  its 
rigors,  it  is  necessary  to  conceive  an  army  encamped 
on  the  snow,  in  the  depth  of  a  severe  winter,  pur 
sued  by  an  enemy  to  whom  it  could  oppose  no  ef 
fective  resistance.  The  soldiers,  without  shoes,  and 
almost  destitute  of  clothing,  were  enfeebled  by 
hunger  and  fatigue.  Seated  on  their  knapsacks, 
they  slept  on  their  knees.  From  this  benumbing 
posture  they  rose  only  to  broil  a  few  slices  of  horse 
flesh,  or  to  melt  some  pieces  of  ice.  They  were 
often  without  wood,  and  to  keep  up  a  fire,  demol 
ished  the  houses  in  which  the  generals  were  lodged. 
When  we  awoke  in  the  morning,  the  village  had 
disappeared ;  and  in  this  manner  towns  that  were 
standing  entire  in  the  evening,  formed  the  next  day 
one  vast  conflagration." 

"Whole  teams,  (Nov.  15,  1812,)  sinking  under 
their  fatigues,  fell  together,  and  obstructed  the  way. 
More  than  thirty  thousand  horses  perished  in  a  few 
days.  All  the  defiles  that  were  impassable  for  the 
carriages,  were  strewed  with  arms,  helmets,  cuiras 
ses,  broken  trunks,  portmanteaus,  and  clothes  of 
every  kind.  At  intervals  we  saw  trees,  at  the  feet  of 
which  the  soldiers  had  attempted  to  light  fires,  but 
had  expired  in  making  these  useless  efforts  to  warm 
themselves.  They  were  stretched  by  dozens  around 
the  green  branches  which  they  had  in  vain  endea 
vored  to  kindle ;  and  the  number  of  dead  bodies 
would  have  blocked  up  the  road,  if  we  had  not  em 
ployed  men  to  throw  them  into  the  ruts  and  ditches. 

"  It  was  now  December.  The  cold  was  intense  ; 
the  wind  howled  frightfully;  and,  towards  the 
close  of  the  day,  the  darkness  was  illumined  by  the 


PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  59 

numerous  fires  of  the  enemy  who  occupied  the  hills 
of  Zembin.  At  the  feet  of  these  heights,  groaned 
our  companions,  devoted  to  death  ;  never  had  they 
experienced  moments  so  dreadful  as  on  this  disas 
trous  night.  All  the  horrors  that  can  be  conceived 
by  the  imagination,  would  convey  but  a  faint  im 
pression  of  what  they  endured.  The  elements,  let 
loose,  seemed  to  have  combined  to  afflict  all  nature, 
and  to  chastise  man.  The  conquerors  and  the  con 
quered  were  overwhelmed  with  sufferings.  The 
former,  however,  had  enormous  piles  of  burning 
wood,  while  the  latter  had  neither  fire  nor  shelter ; 
their  groans  alone  indicated  the  spot  that  contained 
BO  many  unfortunate  victims. 

"  At  every  step  (Dec.  5)  we  saw  brave  officers 
supported  on  pine  branches,  covered  with  rags,  with 
their  hair  and  beards  matted  with  icicles.  Those 
warriors,  once  the  terror  of  our  enemies,  and  the  con 
querors  of  two  thirds  of  Europe,  having  lost  their 
noble  mien,  dragged  themselves  slowly  along,  and 
could  not  obtain  a  look  of  pity  even  from  the  sol 
diers  they  had  commanded.  Their  situation  was 
the  more  deplorable,  as  whoever  had  not  strength 
to  march,  was  abandoned  ;  and  every  one  who  was 
abandoned,  in  one  hour  afterwards  was  a  dead  man. 
Every  bivouac  presented  us  the  next  day  with  the 
appearance  of  a  field  of  battle. 

"  The  road  was  covered  (Dec.  8)  with  soldiers  who 
no  longer  retained  the  human  form,  and  whom  the 
enemy  disdained  to  take  prisoners.  Every  day  fur 
nished  scenes  too  painful  to  relate.  Some  had  lost 
their  hearing,  others  their  speech,  and  many,  by  ex 
cessive  cold  and  hunger,  were  reduced  to  such  a  state 
of  stupid  frenzy,  that  they  roasted  the  dead  bodies 
for  food,  and  even  gnawed  their  own  hands  and  arms. 
Some,  who  were  too  weak  to  lift  a  piece  of  wood,  or 
to  ro...l  a  stone  towards  the  fire;  sat  down  upon  their 


60      PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FRuM  WAR. 

dead  companions,  and  with  an  unmoved  counte 
nance,  gazed  upon  the  burning  logs.  When  they 
were  consumed,  these  livid  spectres,  unable  to  get 
up,  fell  by  the  side  of  those  on  whom  they  had  been 
seated.  Many,  in  a  state  of  delirium,  plunged  their 
bare  feet  into  the  fire  just  to  warm  themselves ;  some, 
with  a  convulsive  laugh,  threw  themselves  into  the 
flames,  and  with  shocking  cries,  perished  in  the 
most  horrible  contortions ;  while  others,  in  a  state 
of  equal  madness,  followed  their  example,  and  shared 
the  same  fate !"  "  Multitudes,"  says  Porter,  "  lost 
their  speech,  others  were  seized  with  frenzy,  and 
many  were  so  maddened  by  the  extremes  of  pain 
and  hunger,  that  they  tore  the  dead  bodies  of  their 
comrades  in  to  pieces,  and  feasted  on  the  remains  !" 


SECTION  IV. 


A  S:EGE  is  war  in  miniature.  Take  the  case  of 
Saragossa,  in  Spain.  "  The  French  fought  their  way 
into  the  entrance  of  this  ill  fated  city  by  mining  and 
exploding  one  house  after  another,  while  the  inhab 
itants  were  confined  to  that  quarter  of  the  city  still 
in  possession  of  the  Spaniards,  who  were  crowded, 
men,  women  and  children,  into  the  cellars  to  avoid 
the  cannon  balls  and  bombs.  Pestilence  broke  out 
as  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  when  once  begun,  it  was 
impossible  to  check  its  progress,  or  confine  it  to  one 
quarter  of  the  city.  It  was  not  long  before  more 
than  thirty  hospitals  were  established.  As  soon  as 
one  was  destroyed  by  the  bombardment,  the  pa 
tients  were  removed  to  some  other  building,  which 
was  in  a  state  to  afford  them  temporary  shelter,  and 


*       PERSONAL   SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  61 

thus  the  infection  was  carried  into  every  part  of 
Saragossa.  The  average  of  daily  deaths  from  this 
cause  was,  at  this  time,  not  less  than  three  hundred 
and  fifty.  Men  stretched  upon  straw,  in  helpless 
misery,  lay  breathing  their  last,  and  with  their 
dying  breath  spreading  the  mortal  taint  of  their  own 
disease,  without  medicines,  food  or  attendance  ;  for 
the  ministers  of  chanty  themselves  became  the  vic 
tims  of  the  disease.  The  slightest  wound  produced 
gangrene  and  death  in  bodies  so  prepared  for  disso 
lution  by  distress  of  mind,  agitation,  and  want  of 
proper  aliment  and  of  sleep  ;  for  there  was  no 
respite,  either  by  day  or  night,  for  this  devoted  city. 
By  day,  it  was  involved  in  a  red  sulphuric  atmo 
sphere  of  smoke  and  dust,  which  hid  the  face  of  hea 
ven  ;  by  night,  the  fire  of  cannon  and  mortars,  and 
the  flames  of  burning  houses,  kept  it  in  a  state  of 
horrible  illumination. 

"  At  length  a  convent  and  the  general  hospital 
were  stormed  and  set  on  fire.  The  sick  and  wounded 
threw  themselves  from  the  windows  to  escape  the 
flames  :  and  the  horror  of  the  scene  was  aggravated 
by  the  maniacs,  whose  voices,  raving  or  singing  in 
paroxysms  of  increased  madness,  were  heard  amidst 
the  confusion  of  dreadful  sounds.  After  forcing 
their  way  into  the  city,  the  French  occupied  one 
side  of  the  street,  and  the  Spaniards  the  other  ;  and 
the  intervening  space  was  presently  heaped  with  the 
dead,  either  slain  upon  the  spot,  or  thrown  from  the 
windows.  It  was  almost  death  to  appear  by  day 
light  within  reach  of  such  houses  as  were  occupied 
by  the  other  party  ;  but,  under  cover  of  the  night, 
the  combatants  frequently  dashed  across  the  street 
to  attack  each  other's  batteries  ;  and  the  battles 
begun  there,  were  often  carried  into  the  houses  be 
yond,  where  they  fought  from  room  to  room,  and 
floor  to  floor. 

6 


62      PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR. 

"  The  havoc  of  life  was  of  course  dreadful ;  and  the 
cemeteries  could  no  longer  afford  room  for  the  dead. 
Large  pits  were  dug  to  receive  them  in  the  streets, 
and  in  the  courts  of  the  public  buildings,  till  hands 
were  wanted  for  the  labor  ;  they  were  laid  before 
the  churches,  heaped  upon  one  another,  and  covered 
with  sheets  ;  and  not  unfrequently  these  piles  of 
mortality  were  struck  by  a  shell,  and  the  shattered 
bodies  scattered  in  all  directions.  When  the  French 
entered  the  city,  six  thousand  bodies  were  lying  in 
the  streets  and  trenches,  or  piled  up  in  heaps  before 
the  churches.'7 

The  siege  of  St.  Jean  d'Acre,  in  Syria,  (1840,) 
terminated  in  a  terrible  bombardment,  of  which  an 
eye-witness  gave  the  following  account : — "  At  half- 
past  four  in  the  morning,  all  firing  ceased,  as  if  by 
one  consent,  when — heavens  !  what  a  sight ! — the 
whole  town  seemed  to  be  thrown  into  the  air  !  We 
saw  nothing  but  one  dense  cloud  extending  thou 
sands  of  yards  into  the  air  on  all  sides  ;  and  then 
we  felt  an  awful  shock,  which  gave  the  line-of  battle 
ships  a  keel  of  two  degrees.  It  was  the  explosion 
caused  by  one  of  our  shells  bursting  in  their  main 
magazine  of  powder,  by  which,  to  speak  within 
bounds,  two  thousand  souls,  besides  beasts  of  burden 
of  every  description,  were  blown  to  atoms  !  The 
entire  loss  of  the  Egyptians  is  computed  at  three 
thousand.  At  daylight,  what  a  sight  was  exposed 
to  our  view !  The  stupendous  fortification,  that 
only  twelve  hours  before  was  among  the  strongest  in 
the  world,  was  so  riddled  that  we  could  not  find  a 
square  foot  which  had  not  a  shot.  I  went  ashore  to 
witness  the  devastation  ;  the  sight  beggared  all 
description !  The  bastions  were  strewed  with  tho 
dead,  the  guns  dismounted,  and  all  sorts  of  havoc. 
The  spot  of  the  explosion  was  far  worse— a  space  of 
two  acres  lakl  quite  bare,  and  hollowed  out  as  if  a 


PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR.      63 

quarry  had  been  worked  there  for  years  !  Heavens ! 
what  a  sight  was  there  before  me  !  Mangled  human 
Bodies,  of  both  sexes,  strewed  in  all  directions, 
women  searching  for  their  husbands  and  other  rela 
tives,  tearing  their  hair,  beating  their  breasts,  and 
howling  and  crying  most  piteously  !" 

In  1800,  Genoa,  occupied  by  24,000  French 
troops,  was  besieged  at  once  by  a  British  fleet,  and 
a  powerful  Austrian  army.  We  will  not  detail  the 
horrors  attendant  on  the  sallies  and  assaults  ;  but 
let  us  look  at  the  condition  of  the  soldiers  and  citi 
zens  within.  The  former,  worn  down  by  fatigue, 
and  wasted  by  famine,  had  consumed  all  the  horses 
in  the  city,  and  were  at  length  reduced  to  the  ne 
cessity  of  feeding  on  dogs,  cats  and  vermin,  which 
were  eagerly  hunted  out  in  the  cellars  and  common 
sewers.  Soon,  however,  even  these  wretched  re 
sources  failed ;  and  they  were  brought  to  the  pit 
tance  of  four  or  five  ounces  a  day  of  black  bread 
made  of  cocoa,  rye,  and  other  substances  ransacked 
from  the  shops  of  the  city. 

The  inhabitants,  also,  were  a  prey  to  the  most 
unparalleled  sufferings.  The  price  of  provisions 
had  from  the  first  been  extravagantly  high,  and  at 
length  no  kind  of  grain  could  be  had  at  any  cost. 
Even  before  the  city  was  reduced  to  the  last  ex 
tremities,  a  pound  of  rice  was  sold  for  more  than  a 
dollar,  and  a  pound  of  flour  for  nearly  two  dollars. 
Afterwards  beans  were  sold  for  two  cents  each,  and 
a  biscuit  of  three  ounces  weight,  when  procurable  at 
all,  for  upwards  of  two  dollars.  A  little  cheese,  and 
a  few  vegetables,  were  the  only  nourishment  given 
even  to  the  sick  and  wounded  in  the  hospitals. 

The  horrors  of  this  prolonged  famine  in  a  city 
containing  above  100,000  souls,  cannot  be  adequate 
ly  described.  All  day  the  cries  of  the  miserable 
victims  were  heard  in  the  streets,  while  the  neigh* 


64      PERSONAL  SUFFERIN-GS  FROM  WAR. 

boring  rocks  within  the  walls  were  covered  with  a 
famished  crowd,  seeking  in  the  vilest  animals,  and 
the  smallest  traces  of  vegetation,  the  means  of 
assuaging  the  intolerable  pangs  of  hunger.  Men 
and  women,  in  the  last  agonies  of  despair,  filled  the 
air  with  their  groans  and  shrieks ;  and  sometimes, 
while  uttering  these  dreadful  cries,  they  strove  with 
furious  hands  to  tear  out  their  ravening  entrails, 
and  fell  dead  in  the  streets  !  At  night,  the  lamen 
tations  of  the  people  were  still  more  dreadful ;  too 
agitated  to  sleep,  and  unable  to  endure  the  agonies 
around  them,  they  prayed  aloud  for  death  to  relieve 
them  from  their  sufferings. 

Dreadful  was  the  effect  of  these  protracted 
calamities  in  hardening  the  heart,  and  rendering 
men  insensible  to  anything  but  their  own  disasters. 
Children,  left  by  the  death  of  their  parents  in  utter 
destitution,  implored  in  vain  the  passing  stranger 
with  tears,  with  mournful  gestures,  and  heart-broken 
accents,  to  give  them  succor  and  relief.  Infants, 
deserted  in  the  streets  by  their  own  parents,  and 
women  who  had  sunk  down  from  exhaustion  on  the 
public  thorouglffares,  were  abandoned  to  their  fate; 
and.  crawling  to  the  sewers,  and  other  receptacles 
of  filth,  they  sought  there,  with  dying  hands,  for  the 
means  of  prolonging  their  miserable  existence  for  a 
few  hours.  In  the  desperation  produced  by  such 
long  continued  torments,  the  more  ardent  and  im 
petuous  rushed  out  of  the  gates,  and  threw  them 
selves  into  the  harbor,  where  they  perished  without 
assistance  or  commiseration.  To  such  straits  were 
they  reduced,  that  not  only  leather  and  skins  of 
every  kind  were  devoured,  but  the  horror  at  human 
flesh  was  so  much  abated,  that  numbers  were  sup 
ported  on  the  dead  bodies  of  their  fellow-citizens ! 

Still  more  cruel,  horrible  beyond  all  description, 
was  the  spectacle  presented  by  the  Austrian  prison- 


PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAB.      65 

ers  of  war  confined  on  board  certain  old  vessels  in 
the  port ;  for  such  was  the  dire  necessity  at  last, 
that  they  were  left  for  some  days  without  nutriment 
of  any  kind  !  They  ate  their  shoes,  they  devoured 
the  leather  of  their  pouches,  and,  scowling  darkly  at 
each  other,  their  sinister  glances  betrayed  the 
horrid  fear  of  their  being  driven  to  prey  upon  one 
another.  Their  French  guards  were  at  length 
removed,  under  the  apprehension  that  they  might 
be  made  a  sacrifice  to  ravening  hunger  ;  and  so 
great  did  their  desperation  finally  become,  that 
they  endeavored  to  scuttle  their  floating  prisons  in 
order  to  sink  them,  preferring  to  perish  thus  rather 
than  endure  any  longer  the  tortures  of  famine. 

Pestilence,  as  usual,  came  in  the  rear  of  such 
calamities ;  and  contagious  fevers  swept  off  multi 
tudes  whom  the  strength  of  the  survivors  was 
unable  to  inter.  Death  in  every  form  awaited  the 
crowds  whom  common  suffering  had  blended  to 
gether  in  the  hospitals ;  and  the  multitude  of  unbu- 
ried  corpses  which  encumbered  the  streets,  threat 
ened  the  city  with  depopulation  almost  as  certainly 
as  the  grim  hand  of  famine  under  which  they  were 
melting  away.  When  the  evacuation  took  place, 
the  extent  of  the  suffering  which  the  besieged  had 
undergone,  appeared  painfully  conspicuous.  u  On 
entering  the  town,"  says  Thiebault,  u  all  the  figures 
we  met,  bore  the  appearance  of  profound  grief,  or 
sombre  despair ;  the  streets  resounded  with  the 
most  heart-rending  cries  ;  on  all  sides  death  was 
reaping  its  harvest  of  victims ;  and  the  rival  furies 
of  famine  and  pestilence  were  multiplying  their  de 
vastations.  In  a  word,  both  the  army  and  the 
inhabitants  seemed  fast  approaching  their  dissolu 
tion." 

We  will  give  only  one  specimen  more  in  the  clos- 
hrg  scenes  of  the  siega  of  Magdeburg,  1631.  Tile 
6* 


66  PERSONAL    SUFFERINGS   FROM    WAR. 

resistance  was  long  and  obstinate  5  but  at  length 
two  gates  were  forced  open  by  the  besiegers,  and 
Tilly,  marching  a  part  of  his  infantry  into  the  town, 
immediately  occupied  the  principal  streets,  and  with 
pointed  cannon  drove  the  citizens  into  their  dwel 
lings,  there  to  await  their  destiny.  Nor  were  they 
held  long  in  suspense ;  a  word  from  Tilly  decided 
the  fate  of  Magdeburg.  Even  a  more  humane 
general  would  have  attempted  in  vain  to  restrain 
such  soldiers ;  but  Tilly  never  once  made  the 
attempt.  The  silence  of  their  general  left  the  sol 
diers  masters  of  the  citizens  ;  and  they  broke,  with 
out  restraint,  into  the  houses  to  gratify  every  brutal 
appetite.  The  prayers  of  innocence  excited  some 
compassion  in  the  hearts  of  the  Germans,  but  none 
in  the  rude  breasts  of  Pappenheim's  Walloons. 
Scarcely  had  the  massacre  commenced,  when  the 
other  gates  were  thrown  open,  and  the  cavalry,  with 
the  fearful  hordes  of  Croats,  poured  in  upon  the 
devoted  town. 

Now  began  a  scene  of  massacre  and  outrage 
which  history  has  no  language,  poetry  no  pencil,  to 
portray.  Neither  the  innocence  of  childhood,  nor 
the  helplessness  of  old  age,  neither  youth  nor  sex, 
neither  rank  nor  beauty,  could  disarm  the  fury  of 
the  conquerors.  Wives  were  dishonored  in  the 
very  arms  of  their  husbands,  daughters  at  the  feet 
of  their  parents,  and  the  defenceless  sex  exposed  to 
the  double  loss  of  virtue  and  life.  No  condition, 
however  obscure,  or  however  sacred,  could  afford 
protection  against  the  cruelty  or  rapacity  of  the 
enemy.  Fifty-three  women  were  found  in  a  single 
church  with  their  heads  cut  off!  The  Croats  amused 
themselves  with  throwing  children  into  the  flames, 
and  Pappenheim's  Walloons  with  stabbing  infants 
at  their  mothers'  breasts !  Some  officers  of  the 
League,  horror-struck  at  scenes  so  dreadful,  ven- 


PERSONAL  SUFFERINGS  FROM  WAR.      67 

frured  to  remind  Tilly,  that  he  had  it  in  his  power  to 
stop  the  carnage.  "  Return  in  an  hour,"  was  his 
answer,  "  and  I  will  see  what  is  to  be  done ;  the 
soldier  must  have  some  recompense  for  his  dangers 
and  toils  I" 

No  orders  came  from  the  general  to  check  these 
horrors,  which  continued  without  abatement  till  the 
smoke  and  flames  at  last  stopped  the  course  of  the 
plunderers.  To  increase  the  confusion,  and  break 
the  resistance  of  the  inhabitants,  the  invaders  had, 
in  the  commencement  of  the  assault,  fired  the  town 
in  several  places  ;  and  a  tempest  now  arose,  and 
spread  the  flames  with  frightful  rapidity,  till  the 
blaze  became  universal,  and  forced  the  victors  to 
pause  awhile  in  their  work  of  rapine  and  carnage. 
The  confusion  was  deepened  by  the  clouds  of  smoke, 
the  clash  of  swords,  the  heaps  of  dead  bodies  strew 
ing  the  ground,  the  crash  of  falling  ruins,  and  the 
streams  of  blood  which  ran  along  the  streets.  The 
atmosphere  glowed  ;  and  the  intolerable  heat  finally 
compelled  even  the  murderers  to  take  refuge  in 
their  camp.  In  less  than  twelve  hours,  this  strong, 
populous  and  flourishing  city,  one  of  the  finest  in 
all  Germany,  was  a  heap  of  ashes,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  only  two  churches,  and  a  few  houses. 

Scarcely  had  the  flames  abated,  when  the  soldiers 
returned  to  satiate  anew  their  rage  for  plunder  amid 
the  ruins  and  ashes  of  the  town.  Multitudes  were 
suffocated  by  the  smoke  ;  but  many  found  rich 
booty  in  the  cellars  where  the  citizens  had  concealed 
their  most  valuable  effects.  At  length  Tilly  him 
self  appeared  in  the  town  after  the  streets  had  been 
cleared  of  ashes  and  corpses.  Horrible  and  revolt 
ing  to  humanity  was  the  scene  that  presented  itself! 
The  few  survivors  crawling  from  under  the  dead ; 
little  children  wandering  about,  with  heart-rending 
cries,  in  quest  of  their  parents  now  no  more ;  and 


68  PERSONAL   SUFFERINGS    FHOM    \\Aft. 

infants  still  sucking  the  dead  bodies  of  their 
mothers !  More  than  five  thousand  bodies  were 
thrown  into  the  Elbe  just  to  clear  the  streets  ;  a  far 
greater  number  had  been  consumed  by  the  flames  ; 
the  entire  amount  of  the  slaughter  was  estimated  at 
thirty  thousand  ;  and  in  gratitude  to  the  God  of 
peace  for  such  horrid  success  in  the  butchery  of  his 
children,  for  this  triumph  of  Christian  over  Chris 
tian  in  blood,  and  fire,  and  rapine,  and  brutal  lust, 
a  solemn  mass  was  performed,  and  Te  Ddum  sung 
amid  the  discharge  of  artillery  ! ! 

Just  think  of  the  siege  of  Ismail  with  its  70,000 
victims,  of  Ostend  with  its  120,000,  of  Mexico  with 
its  150,000,  of  Carthage  with  its  700,000,  of  Jerusa 
lem  with  more  than  a  million,  of  Troy  with  nearly 
two  millions ;  and  you  may  form  some  faint  concep 
tion  of  the  atrocities  and  woes  with  which  this  sin 
gle  department  of  warfare  has  covered  the  earth. 


SECTION  V. 

BATTLES. 

IT  is  difficult  for  any  one,  not  familiar  by  experi 
ence  with  the  horrid  reality,  to  form  any  adequate 
conception  of  a  battle.  Carlyle  calls  it  "  a  terrible 
conjugation  of  the  verb  to  kill — I  kill,  thou  killest, 
he  kills  ;  we  kill,  ye  kill,  they  kill,  all  kill."  Such 
is  every  battle  ;  and  mark  the  result.  In  the  sea- 
fight  at  Copenhagen,  the  wheels  of  the  cannon  soon 
became  so  clogged  by  those  who  fell,  that  the  sur 
vivors  at  intervals  cleared  the  decks  by  throwing 
legs,  and  arms,  and  shattered  bodies  overboard  as 
they  would  have  shovelled  out  a  pig-sty.  A  man,  now 
member  of  a  church  in  the  city  of  New  York,  told 


PERSONAL   SUFFERING   FROM   WAR.  69 

his  pastor  he  was  at  the  battle  of  Lodi,  followed 
Napoleon  across  its  memorable  bridge,  and  there 
waded  ankle-deep  in  the  mire  of  human  flesh  tram 
pled  and  crushed  to  jelly  by  the  horses  and  cannon 
that  had  passed  over  them. 

An  American  officer  once  called  "  a  field  of  battle 
THE  VERIEST  HELL  UPON  EARTH  ;"  and  vividly  does 
one  of  our  best  writers  describe  the  infernal  scene : 
"  Imagine  a  celestial  spirit,  on  an  errand  of  mercy, 
descending  upon  our  globe,  and  led  by  chance  to  an 
European  plain  at  the  point  of  some  great  battle. 
On  a  sudden,  the  field  of  combat  opens  on  his  aston-  • 
ished  vision.  It  is  a  field  which  men  call  glorious. 
A  hundred  thousand  warriors  stand  in  opposing 
ranks.  Light  gleams  on  their  burnished  steels. 
Their  plumes  and  banners  wave.  Hill  echoes  to 
hill  the  noise  of  moving  rank  and  squadron,  the 
neigh  and  tramp  of  steeds,  the  trumpet,  drum  and 
bugle-call. 

"  There  is  a  momentary  pause,  a  silence  like  that 
which  precedes  the  fall  of  the  thunderbolt,  like  that 
awful  stillness  which  is  precursor  to  the  desolating 
rage  of  the  whirlwind.  In  an  instant,  flash  succeed 
ing  flash,  pours  columns  of  smoke  along  the  plain. 
The  iron  tempest  sweeps,  heaping  man,  horse  and 
car  in  undistinguished  ruin.  In  shouts  of  rushing 
hosts,  in  shock  of  breasting  steeds,  in  peals  of  mus 
ketry,  in  the  roar  of  artillery,  in  the  clash  of  sabres, 
in  thick  and  gathering  clouds  of  smoke  and  dust, 
all  human  eye,  and  ear,  and  sense  are  lost.  Man 
sees  not,  but  the  sight  of  onset.  Man  hears  not, 
but  the  cry  of  onward ! 

"  Not  so  the  celestial  stranger.  His  spiritual  eye 
unobscured  by  artificial  night,  his  spiritual  ear  un 
affected  by  mechanic  noise,  witness  the  real  scene, 
naked  in  all  its  cruel  horrors.  He  sees  lopped  and 
bleeding  limbs  scattered ;  gashed,  dismembered 


70       PERSONAL  SOFFERING  FROM  WAR. 

trunks  outspread  ;  gore-clotted,  lifeless  brains  burst 
ing  from  crushed  skulls  ;  blood  gushing  from  sabred 
necks  ;  severed  heads,  whose  mouths  mutter  rage 
amidst  the  palsying  of  the  last  agony.  He  hears 
the  mingled  cry  of  anguish  and  despair  issuing  from 
a  thousand  bosoms  in  which  a  thousand  bayonets 
turn  ;  the  convulsive  scream  of  anguish  from  heaps 
of  mangled,  half  expiring  victims,  over  whom  the 
heavy  artillery  wheels  lumber  and  crush  into  one 
mass,  bone,  arid  muscle,  and  sinew,  while  the  fetlock 
of  the  war-horse  drips  with  blood  starting  from  the 
last  palpitation  of  the  burst  heart  on  which  his  foot 
pivots.  '  This  is  not  earth,'  would  not  such  a  celes 
tial  stranger  exclaim  ?  c  this  is  not  earth — this  is 
hell !  This  is  not  man,  but  demon  tormenting  de 
mon  !' » 

Wait  till  another  morn,  and  then  go  over  that 
field.  Wherever  your  eye  now  turns,  you  behold 
men,  and  horses,  and  weapons,  and  broken  carriages, 
all  mingled  in  most  shocking  confusion.  At  every 
step,  you  tread  in  blood  that  only  yesterday  flowed, 
warm  as  your  own,  in  the  veins  of  a  father,  a  son  or 
a  brother.  Here  is  a  wretch  with  his  limbs  horribly 
mangled,  yet  still  alive ;  and  there  is  another  all 
covered  with  blood,  and  crushed  by  the  tread  of  the 
war  horse,  or  the  wheels  of  cannon  passing  over  him 
Yonder  is  an  athletic  frame  that  had  struggled  hard 
against  his  pains,  and  survived  his  mortal  wounds 
long  enough  in  his  anguish  to  gnaw  the  turf  with 
his  teeth,  and  plough  the  earth  with  his  hands, 
Here  is  another  still  that  had  dragged  himself  along 
in  his  own  gore  till  death  kindly  released  him  from 
his  agonies;  and  yonder  is  a  young  man  of  fair  form 
and  noble  mien,  who  felt  the  dews  of  death  fast  set 
tling  on  his  brow,  and,  knowing  his  hour  had  come, 
pulled  from  his  bosom  the  last  letter  of  a  mother, 
the  picture  of  a  wife,  or  the  braided  lock  of  a  loved 


PERSONAL    SUFFERING   FROM    WAR.  71 

and  plighted  one,  and,  pressing  the  fond  memorial 
to  his  lips,  expired,  with  no  kind  one  near  to  ease 
his  dying  head,  or  catch  his  last  farewell.  There 
they  lie,  the  wounded,  the  dying  and  the  dead,  all 
heaped  together,  a  mass  of  suffering,  death  and  pu 
trefaction.  Often  are  thousands  of  wounded  men 
left  day  after  day  stretched  on  the  open  field,  with 
out  food,  or  drink,  or  any  shelter  from  scorching 
suns,  from  drenching  rains,  from  the  damps  and 
chills  of  night,  or  even  from  the  voracity  of  famish 
ed  beasts  of  prey,  till  multitudes  linger  out  a  most 
miserable  death,  the  wounds  of  many  become  incu 
rable,  and  the  excruciating  pains  of  others  drive 
them  to  madness. 

Let  us  hear  the  testimony  of  some  eye-witnesses. 
"  The  cannon  thundered  at  Heilsberg,  and  the  mus 
ketry  rolled,  illuminating  the  atmosphere  with  con 
tinued  flame,  until  the  combat  gradually  relaxed ; 
but  a  little  before  ten  at  night,  a  deserter  came  over 
to  the  Russians,  and  informed  the  general  that  an 
other  assault  was  preparing  from  the  wood.  Soon  the 
batteries  were  opened,  and  the  fury  of  battle  raged 
again  ;  but  the  assailants,  unable  to  force  the  pas 
sage,  fell  back  almost  annihilated,  and  shouted,  cease 
the  fight.  The  massacre  was  terminated  ;  but  the 
uproar  of  conflict  was  followed  by  the  groans  of  the 
wounded,  who,  tortured  with  pain,  and  anticipating 
a  renewal  of  the  fight  on  the  morrow,  in  vain  im 
plored  removal,  relief,  and  even  death.  When  the 
light  broke,  a  most  disgusting  sight  attracted  the 
attention  of  both  the  armies.  The  ground  between 
them,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  was  a  sheet  of  na 
ked  human  bodies  which  friends  and  foes  had  during 
the  night  mutually  stripped,  not  leaving  the  poorest 
rag  upon  them,  although  numbers  were  still  alive, 
and  retained  a  consciousness  of  their  situation  1" 

Take  the  following  account  of  scenes  after  the 


72      PERSONAL  SUFFERING  FROM  WAK. 

battle  of  Soldin,  from  the  pen  of  a  clergyman.  "  At 
one  o'clock  the  cannonading  ceased  ;  and  I  went  out 
on  foot  as  far  as  Soldin  to  learn  to  whose  advantage 
the  battle  had  turned.  Towards  evening,  seven 
hundred  Russian  fugitives  came  to  Soldin,  a  most 
pitiful  sight !  some  holding  up  their  hands,  cursing 
and  swearing ;  others  praying,  and  praising  the 
king  of  Prussia ;  without  hats,  without  clothes  ; 
some  on  foot,  others  two  on  a  horse,  with  their 
heads  and  arms  tied  up ;  some  dragging  along  by 
the  stirrups,  and  others  by  the  tails  of  the  horses. — - 
When  the  battle  was  decided  in  favor  of  the  Prus 
sians,  I  ventured  to  the  place  where  the  cannonading 
had  been.  After  walking  some  way,  a  Cossack's  horse 
came  running  full  speed  towards  me.  I  mounted 
him  ;  and  on  my  way  for  seven  miles  and  a  half  on 
this  side  the  field  of  battle,  I  found  the  dead  and 
wounded  lying  on  the  ground,  sadly  cut  in  pieces. 
The  further  I  advanced,  the  more  these  poor  crea 
tures  lay  heaped  one  upon  another.  That  scene  1 
shall  never  forget.  The  Cossacks,  as  soon  as  they 
saw  me,  cried  out,  Dear  sir,  water,  water,  WATER  ! 
Righteous  God !  what  a  sight !  Men,  women  and 
children,  Russians  and  Prussians,  carriages  and 
horses,  oxen,  chests  and  baggage,  all  lying  one  upon 
another  to  the  height  of  a  man !  and  seven  villages 
around  me  in  flames,  and  the  inhabitants  either 
massacred,  or  thrown  into  the  fire  ! — Nor  were  the 
embers  of  mutual  rage  yet  extinguished  in  the 
hearts  of  the  combatants ;  for  the  poor  wounded 
were  still  firing  at  each  other  in  the  greatest  exas 
peration  !  The  field  of  battle  was  a  plain  two  miles 
and  a  half  long,  and  so  entirely  covered  with  dead 
and  wounded,  that  there  was  not  even  room  to  set 
my  foot  without  treading  on  some  of  them !  Several 
brooks  were  so  filled  up  with  Russians,  that  they 
lay  heaped  one  upon  another  as  high  as  two  men. 


PERSONAL   SUFFERING   FROM   WAR.  73 

and  appeared  like  hills  to  the  even  ground !  I  could 
hardly  recover  myself  from  the  fright  occasioned  by 
the  miserable  outcries  of  the  wounded.  A  noble 
Prussian  officer,  who  had  lost  both  his  legs,  cried 
out  to  me,  Sir,  you  are  a  priest,  and  preach  mercy  • 
pray,  show  me  some  compassion,  and  dispatch  me 
at  once." 

Hear  a  young  sailor's  description  of  a  sea-fight. 
"  The  firing,"  says  Leech,  "  commenced.  The  roar 
ing  of  cannon  could  now  be  heard  from  all  parts  of 
our  trembling  ship,  and  mingling  with  that  of  our 
foes,  it  made  a  most  hideous  noise.  By  and  by  I 
h^ard  the  shot  strike  the  sides  of  our  ship ;  the 
whole  s<3ene  grew  indescribably  confused  and  horri 
ble  ;  it  was  like  some  awfully  tremendous  thunder 
storm,  carrying  death  in  every  flash,  and  strewing 
the  ground  with  its  victims ;  only  in  our  case  the 
scene  was  rendered  more  horrible  by  the  torrents 
of  blood  on  our  decks. 

The  cries  of  the  wounded  now  rang  through  all 
parts  of  the  ship.  These  were  carried  to  the  cock 
pit  as  fast  as  they  fell,  while  those  more  fortunate 
men  who  were  killed  outright,  were  immediately 
thrown  overboard.  A  man  had  one  of  his  hands 
cut  off  by  a  shot,  and  almost  at  the  same  moment 
he  received  another  shot,  which  tore  open  his  bow 
els  in  a  terrible  manner.  As  he  fell,  two  or  three 
men  took  him,  and  as  he  could  not  live,  threw  him 
overboard.  The  battle  went  on.  Our  men  kept 
cheering  with  all  their  might.  I  cheered  with  them, 
though  I  confess  I  scarcely  knew  for  what.  So  ter 
rible  had  been  the  work  of  destruction  round  us,  it 
was  termed  the  slaughter-house.  We  had  several 
boys  and  men  killed  and  wounded  near  us.  Tho 
schoolmaster  received  a  death  wound.  The  brave 
boatswain,  who  came  from  the  sick  bed  to  the  din 
of  battle,  was  fastening  a  stopper  on  a  back-stay 
7 


74      PERSONAL  SUFFERING  FROM  WAR. 

which  had  been  shot  away,  when  his  head  was 
smashed  to  pieces  by  a  cannon-ball ;  another  man, 
going  to  complete  the  unfinished  task,  was  also  struck 
down.  A  fellow  named  J  ohn,  was  carried  past  me, 
wounded  ;  and  I  distinctly  heard  the  large  blood- 
drops  fall  pat,  pat,  on  the  deck ;  his  wounds  were 
mortal.  Such  was  the  terrible  scene,  amid  which 
we  kept  on  shouting  and  firing.  Our  men  fought 
like  tigers.  Some  of  them  pulled  off  their  jackets, 
others  their  jackets  and  vests ;  while  some,  with 
nothing  but  a  handkerchief  tied  round  the  waist 
bands  of  their  trowsers,  fought  like  heroes. 

The  din  of  battle  continued.  Grape  and  canis 
ter  shot  were  poured  through  our  port-holes  like 
leaden  rain,  carrying  death  in  their  trail.  The 
large  shot  came  against  the  ship's  side  like  iron 
hail,  shaking  her  to  the  very  keel,  or  passing  through 
her  timbers,  and  scattering  terrific  splinters,  which 
$id  a  more  appalling  work  than  even  their  own 
death-giving  blows.  What  with  splinters,  cannon 
balls,  grape  and  canister,  poured  incessantly  upon 
us,  the  reader  may  be  assured  that  the  work  of  death 
went  on  in  a  manner  which  must  have  been  satisfac 
tory  even  to  the  King  of  terrors  himself. 

Suddenly  the  rattling  of  the  iron  hail  ceased.  We 
were  ordered  to  cease  firing.  A  profound  silence 
ensued,  broken  only  by  the  stifled  groans  of  the 
brave  sufferers  below.  The  enemy  had  shot  ahead 
to  repair  damages,  while  we  were  so  cut  up  that  we 
lay  utterly  helpless.  Our  head-braces  were  shot 
away  ;  the  fore  and  main  top-masts  were  gone  ;  the 
mizzen  mast  hung  over  the  stern,  having  carried 
several  men  over  in  its  fall ;  we  were  a  complete 
wreck.  The  officers  held  a  council,  and  concluded 
to  strike  our  colors. 

I  now  went  below,  to  see  how  matters  appeared 
there.  The  first  object  I  met  was  a  man  bearing  a 


PERSONAL    SUFFERING   FROM    WAR.  75 

limb  which  had  just  been  detached  from  some  suf 
fering  wretch.  Pursuing  my  way  to  the  ward-room/ 
I  necessarily  passed  through  the  steerage,  which 
was  strewed  with  the  wounded  ;  it  was  a  sad  spec 
tacle,  made  more  appalling  by  the  groans  and  cries 
which  rent  the  air.  Some  were  groaning,  others  were 
swearing  most  bitterly,  a  few  were  praying,  while 
those  last  arrived,  were  begging  most  piteously  to 
have  their  wounds  dressed  next.  The  surgeon  and 
his  mate  were  smeared  with  blood  from  head  to 
foot ;  they  looked  more  like  butchers  than  doctors. 
Having  so  many  patients,  they  had  once  shifted 
their  quarters  from  the  cockpit  to  the  steerage  ;  they 
now  removed  to  the  ward-room,  and  the  long  table, 
round  which  the  officers  had  sat  over  many  a  merry 
feast,  was  soon  covered  with  the  bleeding  forms  of 
maimed  and  mutilated  seamen.  Most  of  the  poor 
fellows  were  stretched  out  on  the  gory  deck,  and  it 
was  with  exceeding  difficulty  I  moved  through  the 
steerage,  it  was  so  covered  with  mangled  men,  and 
so  slippery  with  streams  of  blood." 


SECTION  VL 

HOSPITALS,    OR    TREATMENT    OF    THE    SICK    AND    WOUNDED. 

IT  is  hardly  possible,  during  the  progress  of  a  war, 
to  make  comfortable  provisions  for  the  diseased ; 
and  even  in  a  time  of  peace,  the  condition  of  a  sick 
soldier  would  be  regarded  by  most  persons  as  quite 
beyond  endurance.  A  surgeon  perhaps  may  come 
to  his  barrack  with  occasional  prescriptions,  and  a 
messmate  administer  the  medicine  ;  but  no  wife,  no 
mother,  no  sister  is  there  to  watch  by  his  rude  ham 
mock,  or  his  pallet  of  straw,  nor  a  well-trained  sym- 


76  PERSONAL    SUFFERING    FROM    WAR. 

pathizing  nurse  to  soothe  his  pains,  and  cheer  his 
drooping,  anguished  spirits. 

Take  a  recent  case  of  our  diseased  soldiers  in 
Mexico.  u  I  left  our  sick,"  says  an  officer,  "  at 
Matamoras  yesterday.  It  makes  one's  heart  bleed 
to  witness  the  sufferings  of  these  poor  fellows.  In 
camp,  you  must  know,  few  of  the  conveniences,  con 
sidered  necessary  to  the  ill  at  home,  can  be  had. 
A  man  gets  sick,  and  he  is  carried  to  the  hospital, 
with  his  blankets  and  his  knapsack.  Bed  and  bed 
ding  there  are  none  ;  and,  as  the  country  is  destitute 
of  lumber,  bedsteads  are  not  to  be  had.  A  blanket 
and  the  ground  is,  therefore,  the  couch  upon  which 
the  volunteer  lies  sick,  and  dies,  if  he  does  not  re 
cover.  If  he  dies,  the  same  blanket  forms  his 
winding-sheet  and  coffin — plank  is  not  to  be  had." 
The  same  officer  says,  that  in  ascending  the  Rio 
G-!  ande.  seventy  of  the  sick  of  the  regiment  were 
left  at  the  Matamoras  Hospital,  and  that  he  was 
shocked  on  his  return  two  weeks  after,  to  find 
twenty-seven  of  the  number  dead.  Of  the  victims  in 
that  war,  scarce  one  in  ten  ever  felt  the  stroke  of 
the  enemy. 

"  There  was  nothing,"  says  an  English  soldier  in 
Spain,  '•  to  sustain  our  famished  bodies,  or  to  shelter 
us,  when  fatigued  or  sick,  from  the  rain  and  snow. 
The  road  was  one  line  of  bloody  foot-marks  from 
the  sore  feet  of  the  men  ;  and  along  its  sides  lay  the 
dead  and  the  dying  Too  weak  to  drag  the  sick 
and  wounded  any  farther  in  the  wagons,  we  now 
left  them  to  perish  in  the  snow.  Even  Donald,  the 
hardy  Highlander,  who  had  long  been  bare-footed, 
and  lame  like  myself,  at  length  lay  down  to  die. 
For  two  days  he  had  been  almost  blind,  and  unable, 
from  a  severe  cold,  to  hold  up  his  head.  We  sat 
down  together  ;  not  a  word  escaped  our  lips.  We 
looked  around,  then  at  each  other,  and  closed  our 


PERSONAL    SUFFERING   FROM   WAR.  77 

eyes.  We  felt  there  was  no  hope.  We  would  have 
given  in  charge  a  farewell  to  our  friends  ;  but  who 
was  to  carry  it?.  Not  far  from  us,  there  were,  here 
and  there,  above  thirty  in  the  same  situation  with 
ourselves ;  and  nothing  but  groans  mingled  with 
execrations,  was  to  be  heard  between  the  pauses  of 
the  wind" 

Take  from  the  same  writer  a  specimen  of  the 
treatment  that  war  gives  its  wounded  servants. 
"We  then  marched  off,  leaving  our  wounded,  whose 
cries  were  piercing ;  but  we  could  not  help  them. 
Numbers  followed  us,  crawling  on  their  hands  and 
knees,  and  filling  the  air  with  their  groans.  Many 
who  could  not  even  crawl  after  us,  held  out  their 
hands,  supplicating  to  be  taken  with  us.  We  tore 
ourselves  from  them,  and  hurried  away;  for  we 
could  not  bear  the  sight.  On  we  struggled  through 
a  dark  and  stormy  night,  carrying  the  wounded 
officers  in  blankets  on  our  shoulders  5  but  such  of 
the  wounded  soldiers  as  had  been  able  still  to  keep 
up  with  us,  made  the  heart  bleed  at  their  cries." 

Nor  is  this  a  solitary  case,  or  one  unusually  se 
vere.  In  the  late  wars  of  Europe,  multitudes  of 
the  sick  were  abandoned  to  their  fate  in  camps  sud 
denly  forced  by  the  enemy ;  in  their  rapid  inarches, 
vast  numbers,  enfeebled  by  disease,  or  exhausted 
with  fatigue,  sank  down  by  the  road-side  to  perish 
without  succor  or  sympathy ;  arid  sometimes  thou 
sands  were  left  on  the  battle  field,  day  after  day, 
amid  the  stench  of  putrefying  carcasses,  without 
food  or  drink,  with  no  shelter  from  the  weather,  and 
no  protection  against  the  voracity  of  ravening 
wolves  and  vultures.  During  the  far-famed  cam 
paign  of  Napoleon  in  Russia,  little  attention  was 
paid  to  the  sick,  the  wounded,  or  those  who  became 
from  any  other  cause  unable  to  take  care  of  them 
selves  ;  and  the  eighty  thousand  victims  on  the  fatal 
7* 


78  PERSONAL    SUFFERING   FROM    WAR. 

field  of  Borodino,  were  for  the  most  part  left  where 
they  fell. 

No  kindness  or  skill  can  avert  suffering  from  such 
victims  of  war.  "  For  ten  days  after  the  sea-fight 
of  Trafalgar,  men  were  employed  in  bringing  the 
wounded  ashore  ;  and  spectacles  were  hourly  exhi 
bited  at  the  wharves,  and  through  the  streets,  suffi 
cient  to  shock  every  heart  not  yet  hardened  to 
scenes  of  blood  and  human  suffering.  When  by  the 
carelessness  of  the  boatmen,  or  the  surging  of  the 
sea,  the  boat  struck  against  the  stone  piers,  a  horrid 
cry.  piercing  the  very  soul,  arose  from  the  mangled 
wretches  on  board.  Nor  was  the  scene  less  affecting 
on  the  tops  of  the  pier,  where  the  wounded  were 
being  carried  away  to  the  hospitals  in  every  shape 
of  misery,  while  crowds  of  Spaniards  either  assisted 
or  looked  on  with  signs  of  horror.  Meanwhile  their 
companions  who  had  escaped  unhurt,  walked  up  and 
down,  with  folded  arms  and  downcast  eyes,  while 
women  sat  on  heaps  of  arms,  broken  furniture  and 
baggage,  with  their  heads  bent  between  their  knees, 
I  had  no  inclination  to  follow  the  litters  of  the 
wounded ;  yet  I  learned  that  every  hospital  in 
Cadiz  was  already  full,  and  the  convents  and 
churches  were  appropriated  to  the  remainder." 

Sir  Charles  Bell,  the  eminent  surgeon  who  was 
present  in  the  hospitals  after  the  battle  of  Waterloo, 
says,  "  the  wounded  French  continued  to  be  brought 
in  for  several  days;  and  the  British  soldiers,  who 
had  in  the  morning  been  moved  by  the  piteous  cries 
of  those  they  carried,  I  saw  in  the  evening  so  har 
dened  by  the  repetition  of  the  scene,  and  by  fatigue, 
as  to  become  indifferent  to  the  sufferings  they  occa 
sioned.  It  was  now  the  thirteenth  day  after  the  bat 
tle.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  sufferings  of 
men  rudely  carried  at  such  a  period  of  their  wounds. 
When  I  first  entered  the  hospital,  these  Frenchmen 


PERSONAL   SUFFERING.   FROM   WAR.  79 

had  been  roused  and  excited  in  a  degree  quite  ex 
traordinary  ;  and  in  the  glance  of  their  eyes  there 
was  a  character  of  fierceness  which  I  never  expected 
to  witness  in  the  human  countenance.  On  the 
second  day,  the  temporary  excitement  had  subsided  ; 
and,  turn  which  way  I  might,  I  encountered  every 
form  of  entreaty  from  those  whose  condition  left  no 
need  of  words  to  stir  compassion.  '  Surgeon  Major, 
oh,  how  I  suffer !  Dress  my  wounds — do  dress  my 
wounds  ! — Doctor,  cut  off  my  leg !  Oh  !  I  suffer 
too  much  !'  And  when  these  entreaties  were  una 
vailing,  you  might  hear  in  a  weak,  inward  voice  of 
despair,  '  I  shall  die — I  am  a  dead  man  !'  " 

The  following  sketch  from  a  British  officer  in 
Portugal  will  help  us  still  farther  to  conceive  the 
horrors  of  a  hospital.  "  I  entered  the  town  of  Mi- 
ran  do  Cervo  about  dusk.  It  had  been  a  black, 
grim,  gloomy  sort  of  day.  Huge  masses  of  clouds 
lay  motionless  on  the  sky ;  and  then  they  would 
break  up  suddenly  as  with  a  whirlwind,  and  roll  off 
in  the  red  and  bloody  distance.  I  felt  myself  in  a 
strange  sort  of  excitement ;  my  imagination  got  the 
better  of  all  my  other  faculties  ;  and,  while  walking 
out  in  the  principal  street,  I  met  a  woman,  an  old, 
haggard-looking  wretch,  who  had  in  her  hollow  eyes 
an  unaccountable  expression  of  cruelty,  a  glance  like 
that  of  madness  ;  but  her  deportment  was  quiet  and 
rational,  and,  though  clad  in  squalidness,  she  was 
evidently  of  the  middle  rank  in  society.  Without 
being  questioned,  she  told  me  in  broken  English,  I 
should  find  comfortable  accommodations  in  an  old 
convent  at  some  distance  in  a  grove  of  cork  trees, 
pointing  to  them  with  her  long,  shrivelled  hand  and 
arm,  and  giving  a  sort  of  hysterical  laugh. 

"  I  followed  her  advice,  anticipating  no  danger  or 
adventure ;  yet  the  wild  eyes,  and  the  still  wilder 
voice  of  the  old  crone  so  powerfully  affected  me, 


80       PERSONAL  SUFFERING  FROM  WAR. 

that  I  walked,  in  a  sort  of  muse,  up  a  pretty  long 
flight  of  steps,  and  found  myself  standing  at  the 
entrance  to  the  cloisters  of  the  convent.  A  strange 
sight  now  burst  upon  my  view  !  Before  me  lay  and 
sat  more  than  a  hundred  dead  bodies,  all  of  them 
apparently  in  the  very  attitude  or  posture  in  which 
they  had  died.  I  gazed  at  them  a  minute  or  more 
before  I  knew  that  they  were  all  corpses ;  and  a  des 
perate  courage  then  enabled  me  to  look  steadfastly 
at  the  scene  before  me.  The  bodies  were  mostly 
clothed  in  mats  and  rags,  and  tattered  great-coats ; 
some  of  them  were  merely  wrapt  round  about  with 
girdles  composed  of  straw ;  and  two  or  three  were 
perfectly  naked.  Every  face  had  a  different  expres 
sion,  but  all  painful,  horrid,  agonized,  bloodless. 
Many  glazed  eyes  were  wide  open  ;  and  perhaps  this 
was  the  most  shocking'thing  in  the  whole  spectacle — 
so  many  eyes  that  saw  not,  all  seemingly  fixed  upon 
different  objects  ;  some  cast  up  to  heaven,  some 
looking  straight  forward,  and  others  with  the  white 
orbs  turned  round,  and  deep  sunk  in  their  sockets. 
It  was  a  sort  of  hospital ;  and  these  wretched  beings, 
nearly  all  desperately  wounded,  had  been  stripped 
by  their  comrades,  and  left  there  either  dead,  or  to 
die. 

"  This  ghastly  sight  I  had  begun  to  view  with 
some  composure,  when  I  saw,  at  the  remotest  part 
of  the  hospital,  a  gigantic  figure  sitting,  all  covered 
with  blood,  and  almost  naked,  upon  a  rude  bedstead, 
with  his  back  leaning  against  the  wall,  and  his  eyes 
fixed  directty  on  mine.  I  first  thought  him  alive, 
and  shuddered  ;  but  he  was  stone  dead  !  In  his  last 
agonies  he  had  bitten  his  under  lip  almost  entirely 
off  and  his  long  black  beard  was  drenched  in  clotted 
gore,  that  likewise  lay  in  large  blots  upon  his  shag 
gy  bosom.  One  of  his  hands  had  convulsively 
grasped  the  woodwork  of  the  bedstead,  and  crushed 


PERSONAL  SUFFERING  FROM  WAR.      81 

it  in  the  grasp.  I  recognized  the  corpse.  He  was 
a  sergeant  in  a  grenadier  regiment,  and  had,  during 
the  retreat,  been  distinguished  for  acts  of  savage 
valor.  One  day  he  killed  with  his  own  hand  Harry 
Warburton,  the  right-hand  man  of  my  own  company, 
perhaps  the  most  powerful  man  in  the  British  army. 
There  sat  the  giant  frozen  to  death.  I  went  up  to 
him,  and,  raising  his  brawny  arm,  it  fell  down  again 
with  a  hollow  sound  against  the  bloody  side  of  the 
corpse. 

"My  eyes  unconsciously  wandered  along  the  walls. 
They  were  covered  with  grotesque  figures  and  cari 
catures  of  the  English,  absolutely  drawn  in  blood ! 
Horrid  blasphemies,  and  the  most  shocking  obscen 
ities,  in  the  shape  of  songs,  were  in  like  manner 
written  there.  I  observed  two  books  lying  on  the 
floor,  and  picked  them  up.  One  was  full  of  the 
most  hideous  obscenity ;  the  other  was  the  Bible ! 
It  is  impossible  to  tell  the  horror  produced  in  me 
by  this  circumstance.  The  books  dropt  from  my 
hand,  and  fell  on  the  breast  of  one  of  the  bodies — • 
it  was  a  woman's  breast !  Yes,  a  woman  had  lived 
and  died  in  such  a  place  as  this !  What  had  been 
in  that  now  still,  death-cold  heart,  perhaps  only  a 
few  hours  before,  I  knew  not — possibly  love  strong 
as  death ;  love,  guilty,  abandoned,  linked  by  vice 
unto  misery,  but  still  love  that  perished  only  with 
the  last  throb,  and  yearned  in  its  last  convulsion 
towards  some  one  of  these  grim  dead  bodies. 

"  Near  this  corpse  lay  that  of  a  perfect  boy  not 
more  than  seventeen  years  of  age.  Round  his  neck 
was  suspended,  by  a  chain  of  hair,  a  little  copper 
figure  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  in  his  hand  was  a 
letter  in  French.  I  glanced  at  it,  and  read  enough 
to  know  it  was  from  a  mother — My  dear  Son,  &c. 
It  was  a  terrible  place  to  think  of  mother — of  home 
— of  any  social,  any  human  ties.  What !  have  these 


82  PERSONAL    SUFFERING    FROM    WAR. 

ghastly  things  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  lovers? 
Were  they  once  all  happy  in  peaceful  homes  ?  Did 
these  convulsed,  bloody,  mangled  bodies  ever  lie  in 
undisturbed  beds?  Did  these  clutched  hands  once 
press  in  infancy  a  mother's  breast  ?  Now,  alas  !  how 
loathsome,  terrible,  ghostlike !  Will  such  creatures, 
thought  I,  ever  live  again?  Robbers,  ravishers, 
incendiaries,  murderers,  suicides — a  dragoon  there 
had  obviously  blown  out  his  brains — here  is  a  very 
pandemonium  of  guilt  and  horror 1" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SOCIAL    AND    DOMESTIC    SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR. 

WAR  makes  fearful  havoc  of  domestic  and  social 
happiness.  The  single  battle  of  Waterloo  called 
forth  wailings  of  domestic  grief  from  a  whole  conti 
nent  ;  nor  can  an  army  be  raised,  or  the  slightest 
victory  won,  without  sending  a  thrill  of  anguish 
through  the  heart  of  two  nations. 

Look  at  the  victims  of  conscription,  the  European 
method  of  raising  armies.  "  Once,"  says  an  Eng 
lish  poet — 

Once  I  beheld  a  captive,  whom  the  wars 

Had  made  an  inmate  of  the  prison-house, 

Cheering  with  wicker-work  his  dreary  hours. 

I  asked  his  story.     In  my  native  tongue, 

(Long  use  had  made  it  easy  as  his  own,) 

He  answered  thus:  Before  these  wars  began, 

I  dwelt  upon  the  willowy  banks  of  Loire. 

I  married  one  who  from  my  boyish  days 

Had  been  my  playmate.     One  morn.  I'll  ne'er  forget, 

While  choosing  out  the  fairest  little  twigs? 

To  wrap  a  cradle  for  our  child  unborn, 


SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  83 

We  heard  the  tidings,  that  the  conscript-lot 
Had  fallen  on  me.     It  came  like  a  death-knell. 
The  mother  perished,  but  the  babe  survived ; 
And,  ere  my  parting  day,  his  rocking  couch 
I  made  complete,  and  saw  him  sleeping  smile — 
The  smile  that  played  erst  on  the  cheek  of  her, 
Who  lay  clay  cold.     Alas  !  the  hour  soon  came, 
That  forced  my  fettered  arms  to  quit  my  child. 
And  whether  now  he  lives  to  deck  with  flowers 
The  sod  upon  his  mother's  grave,  or  lies 
Beneath  it  by  her  side,  I  ne'er  could  learn. 
I  think  he's  gone ;  and  now  I  only  wish 
For  liberty  and  home,  that  I  may  see, 
And  stretch  myself,  and  die  upon  their  grave. 

Of  the  heart-rending  miseries  incident  to  families 
from  the  progress  of  war,  I  hardly  know  where  to 
begin,  or  where  to  end  the  illustrations  furnished  in 
all  ages.  Think  of  a  siege  or  a  battle,  of  a  party 
of  lawless,  ruthless  marauders,  or  the  march  of  a 
brutal,  exasperated  army  through  a  hostile  or  even 
a  friendly  country.  ':  It  is  difficult,"  says  an  eye 
witness,  "  for  the  inhabitants  of  a  peaceful  territory 
to  conceive  the  miseries  incident  to  the  theatre  of 
such  a  sanguinary  contest  as  that  between  the 
French  and  the  allied  forces.  While  Napoleon, 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  now  menaced  one  of  hia 
foes,  and  now  sprang  furiously  upon  another,  the 
scene  of  this  desultory  warfare  was  laid  waste  in  the 
most  merciless  manner.  The  soldiers  on  both  parts, 
driven  to  desperation,  became  reckless  and  pitiless; 
and,  straggling  from  their  columns  in  all  directions, 
they  committed  every  species  of  excess  upon  the 
people.  The  peasants,  with  their  wives  and  chil 
dren,  fled  to  caves,  quarries  and  woods,  where  the 
latter  were  starved  to  death,  and  the  former,  col 
lecting  into  small  bodies,  increased  the  terrors 
of  war  by  pillaging  the  convoys  of  both  armies, 
attacking  small  parties  of  all  nations,  and  cutting 
off  the  sick,  the  wounded,  and  the  stragglers.  The 


84  SOCIAL   AND   DOMESTIC 

repeated  advance  and  retreat  of  the  contending 
armies  exasperated  these  evils  ;  for  every  fresh  band 
of  plunderers  that  arrived,  was  savagely  eager  after 
spoil  in  proportion  as  the  gleaning  became  scarce. 
In  the  words  of  Scripture, '  what  the  locust  left,  was 
devoured  by  the  palmer-worm ;'  what  escaped  the 
Baskirs,  and  Kirgas,  and  Croats  of  the  Wolga,  the 
Caspian,  and  Turkish  frontier,  was  peized  by  the 
half-starved  conscripts  of  Napoleon,  whom  want, 
hardship,  and  an  embittered  spirit  rendered  as  care 
less  of  the  ties  of  country  as  the  others  were  indif 
ferent  to  the  general  claims  of  humanity.  The 
towns  and  villages  that  were  the  scenes  of  actual 
conflict,  were  frequently  burnt  to  the  ground  ;  and 
thus  was  the  distress  of  the  people  vastly  increased 
by  extending  the  terrors  of  battle,  with  its  accom 
paniments  of  slaughter,  fire  and  famine,  into  the 
most  remote  ^nd  sequestered  districts.  Even  the 
woods  afforded  no  concealment,  the  churches  no 
sanctuary ;  nor  did  the  grave  itself  protect  the  rel 
ics  of  mortality.  The  villages  were  everywhere 
burnt,  the  forms  wasted  and  pillaged,  the  abodes  of 
man,  and  all  that  belongs  to  peaceful  industry  and 
domestic  comfort,  desolated  and  destroyed  to  such  a 
degree,  that  wolves  and  other  savage  animals  in 
creased  fearfully  in  the  districts  thus  laid  waste 
by  human  hands,  ferocious  as  their  own." 

What  safety  or  repose  for  families  during  an  as 
sault  upon  the  city  where  they  dwell !  When  the 
English  fleet  was  bombarding  Copenhagen,  and  every 
woman  and  child  was  flying  in  terror  from  the  de 
structive  missiles,  and  from  burning  and  falling 
houses,  a  little  chiH  was  <seen  running  across  the 
street  for  shelter,  Le  knew  not  where,  when  a  rocket 
struck  the  poor  iDUo-sent,  and  dashed  him  to  pieces ! 
In  1845,  an  o)d  bomb-shell,  dug  out  of  the  sand, 
and  brought  into  the  city  of  New  York  to  b«  used 


SUFFERINGS   FROM   WAR.  85 

as  old  iron,  accidentally  exploded,  and  killed  several 
men.  "  Guided  by  hundreds  who  were  rushing  to 
the  spot,"  says  an  eye-witness,  "  I  entered  Charlton 
street,  and  observed  on  both  sides,  for  some  distance, 
that  the  windows  were  entirely  demolished,  the 
doors  shattered,  and  holes  actually  blown  through, 
the  sides  of  the  houses,  large  enough  in  one  case, 
some  forty  rods  from  the  spot  of  the  explosion,  for 
a  man  to  enter.  Upon  the  side-walk  in  front  of  a 
shop  of  old  iron,  lay  some  thirty  or  forty  rusty 
bomb-shells,  about  eight  inches  in  diameter.  It  was 
said  by  the  crowd,  that  a  man  had  one  of  these  be 
tween  his  knees,  endeavoring  to  loosen  the  charge 
with  a  stick,  when  it  exploded,  and  produced  the 
terrible  scene  before  me.  The  body  of  the  man  was 
torn  to  pieces,  and  scattered  through  the  streets. 
Observing  a  crowd  around  an  object  at  a  short  dis 
tance,  I  approached,  and  saw  apparently  a  large 
piece  of  butcher's  meat,  which  a  boy  was  pushing 
about  with  his  foot ; — it  proved  to  be  the  lower  part 
of  a  man's  leg,  with  the  crushed  bones  and  mangled 
flesh  !  '  The  other  leg,'  said  a  bystander,  '  was 
blown  over  into  Hudson  street.'  I  saw  a  crowd 
collected  around  a  wiridow-sill,  gazing  at  some  ob 
ject  ;—  it  was  a  man's  hand,  torn  from  his  body,  and 
thrown  with  violence  against  the  wall,  the  fingers 
burnt,  and  crushed,  and  blackened.  The  mangled 
trunk  of  the  unfortunate  man,  headless  and  limbless, 
had  been  carried  into  the  house,  and  the  shrieks  of 
his  wife  were  now  heard  over  the  bloody  remains. 
Upon  an  iron  window-frame  lay  the  torn  body  of 
another  man,  already  dead,  and  his  blood  and  brains 
dripping  down  upon  the  pavement.  Two  young 
men,  who  happened  to  be  passing  by  in  the  middle 
of  the  street,  were  literally  blown  up  into  the  air, 
and  fell  with  broken  and  mangled  limbs,  and  both 
died  the  next  day.  Such  was  the  horrid  execution 


86  SOCIAL    AND    DOMESTIC 

of  a  single  shell ;  and  yet  Napoleon,  in  less  than 
ten  hours,  threw  three  thousand  such  projectiles 
into  the  heart  of  Vienna,  three  hundred  every  hour, 
five  every  minute — crashing  through  the  roofs  of 
dwellings,  and  exploding  at  the  fireside,  in  the  in 
fant's  cradle,  or  on  the  couches  of  the  sick  !" 

What  confusion  and  consternation  attend  the 
bare  presence  of  a  hostile  army !  "  No  sooner," 
says  Shoberl.  describing  Napoleon's  army  just  be 
fore  the  battle  of  Leipsic,  u  had  the  first  columns 
arrived  at  their  bivouacs  in  the  neighboring  villages, 
than  a  thousand  messengers  came  to  announce  the 
intelligence  in  a  way  that  sufficiently  proved  what 
unwelcome  visitors  they  were.  Weeping  mothers, 
with  beds  packed  up  in  baskets,  leading  two  or  three 
stark-naked  children  by  the  hand,  and  with  perhaps 
another  infant  at  their  back ;  fathers  seeking  their 
wives  and  families ;  children  who  had  lost  their  pa 
rents  in  the  crowd  ;  trucks  with  sick  persons  forcing 
their  way  among  the  thousands  of  horses  ;  cries  of 
misery  and  despair  in  every  quarter — such  were  the 
heralds  that  most  feelingly  proclaimed  the  presence 
of  the  warriors.  The  scenes  of  horror  changed  so 
quickly,  that  you  could  not  dwell  more  than  half  a 
minute  upon  any  one  of  them.  One  tale  of  woe 
followed  on  the  heels  of  another  :  '  such  a  person  has 
been  plundered  ;  such  an  one's  house  has  been  set 
on  fire ;  this  man  has  been  cut  to  pieces ;  that  has 
been  transfixed  with  the  bayonet ;  these  poor  crea 
tures  are  seeking  their  children.'  Such  were  the 
tidings  brought  by  every  new  fugitive."  What  a 
picture  of  the  woes  and  terrors  attendant  on  war ! 

What  havoc  does  a  battle  sometimes  make  of  do 
mestic  happiness !  In  a  French  family  there  were 
three  sons,  two  of  whom  were  compelled,  by  Napo 
leon's  system  of  conscription,  to  leave  their  home, 
and  join  the  army.  In  their  first  engagement,  one 


SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  87 

of  them,  as  he  stood  by  the  side  of  his  brother,  was 
killed  by  a  musket  ball ;  and  the  survivor,  petrified 
with  horror,  was  struck  motionless  at  the  sight,  and 
sent  home,  a  few  days  after,  in  a  state  of  complete 
idiocy.  His  arrival  made  a  similar  impression  upon 
the  third  son,  whose  consternation  and  stupor,  says 
Pinel,  then  superintendent  of  the  Insane  Hospital 
at  Paris,  4  would  have  defied  the  utmost  powers  of 
description  ;  and  it  was  truly  heart-rending  to  see 
the  wretched  father  come  to  weep  over  those  miser 
able  remains  of  his  once  enviable  family.' 

"  For  two  or  three  days  after  the  battle  of  Vitto- 
ria,"  says  a  British  officer,  "  I  was  employed  in  col 
lecting  the  guns  and  various  articles  scattered  over 
the  battle-ground,  and  along  the  road.  In  one  part, 
very  near  a  half-destroyed  barouche,  I  found  a  very 
interesting  and  beautiful  letter  written  in  English, 
and  addressed  to  his  wife,  by  a  Monsieur  Thiebault, 
once  treasurer  to  Joseph  Bonaparte.  With  a  little 
trouble,  I  discovered  not  less  than  twenty  written 
by  the  same  person,  in  the  same  amiable  and  affec 
tionate  strain.  I  gathered  them  up  and  carried 
them  home,  rejoicing  in  my  treasure.  In  the  even 
ing  I  went  to  a  cafe,  and  seeing  there  several  of 
the  French  officers  who  had  been  taken,  I  asked  one 
if  he  knew  a  Monsieur  Thiebault  ?  '  Extremely 
well,'  he  replied  ;  '  he  was  killed  the  other  day  by  a 
chance-shot  among  the  baggage  ;  his  son.  now  a  pri 
soner,  is  quite  disconsolate  ;  and  his  wife,  a  most 
sweet  woman,  a  native  of  Scotland,  left  only  the  day 
before  for  Bayonne,  and  is  still  ignorant  of  her  irre 
parable  loss.'  "  There  was  another  touching  case  in 
the  same  battle.  "  A  paymaster  of  a  British  regi 
ment  had  two  sons  in  his  own  regiment,  both  lieu 
tenants.  He  was  a  widower,  and  had  no  relations 
besides  those  youths ;  they  lived  in  his  tent,  and 
were  his  pride  and  delight.  The  civil  staff  usually 


88  SOCIAL    AND    DOMESTIC 

remain  with  the  baggage  when  the  troops  engage, 
and  join  them  with  it  afterwards ;  and  when  this 
paymaster  came  up  in  the  evening,  an  officer  met 
him.  '  My  boys,'  said  the  old  man,  l  how  are  they? 
Have  they  done  their  duty  ?'  *  They  have  behaved 

most  nobly ;  but  you  have  lost' '  Which  of 

them  ?'  <  Alas !  sir,  both  are  dead.'  " 

In  a  sea-fight  of  the  ship  Swallow,  a  seaman 
named  Phelan  had  a  wife  on  board,  stationed,  as 
usual,  to  assist  the  surgeon  in  his  care  of  the  wounded 
as  they  were  brought  below.  Among  these  was  one 
of  Phelan's  messmates,  whose  dying  agonies  she  was 
endeavoring  to  console,  when  she  chanced  to  hear  that 
her  husband  was  wounded,  and,  rushing  instantly  on 
deck,  she  received  the  wounded  tar  in  her  arms.  He 
faintly  raised  his  head  to  kiss  her.  She  burst  into  a 
flood  of  tears,  and  told  him,  like  a  true  wife,  to  take 
courage,  all  might  yet  be  well ;  but  scarcely  had  she 
uttered  the  last  syllable,  when  a  shot  took  off  her 
head !  The  poor  tar,  closely  folded  in  her  arms, 
opened  his  eyes  once  more,  then  shut  them  forever  ! 

What  domestic  anxiety  and  anguish  must  come 
from  a  campaign  like  that  of  Napoleon  in  Russia ! 
"  How  many  wives  and  mothers  in  France,"  exclaims 
Bourienne,  "  could  not,  without  a  palpitating  heart, 
break  the  cover  of  the  official  gazette  !  How  many 
families  lost  their  support  and  their  hope  !  Never 
were  more  tears  shed.  In  vain  did  the  cannon  ot 
the  Invalids  thunder  forth  the  announcement  of  a 
victory.  How  many  thousands,  in  the  silence  of 
retirement,  were  even  then  preparing  the  external 
symbols  of  mourning !  It  is  still  remembered  that 
for  the  long  space  of  six  months,  the  black  dresses 
of  Paris  presented  a  very  striking  sight  in  every 
part  of  the  city." 

How  terrible,  especially  to  the  female  inhabitants 
of  a  city,  must  be  the  attack  of  a  hostile  army ! 


SUFFERINGS    FROM   WAR.  89 

On  the  capture  of  Hamburg,  in  1813,  the  soldiers, 
with  drawn  swords  and  loaded  muskets,  ran  from 
house  to  house,  crying  out  to  the  citizens,  your  mo 
ney  and  your  women,  or  your  life,  INSTANTLY  !  An 
officer  of  our  army,  relating  the  assault  upon  Mon 
terey,  in  September,  1848,  says  :  "  I  was  ordered  to 
take  a  company  of  my  regiment,  and  break  in  the 
doors  of  a  row  of  houses  in  the  second  plaza.  I  had 
gone  nearly  through  without  seeing  a  soul,  when, 
for  a  time,  the  efforts  of  my  men  were  exerted  in 
vain  to  get  into  one  that  seemed  barricaded  with 
care.  As  the  hinges  of  the  door  were  about  to  give 
way,  a  tremulous  voice  from  the  inside  besought  me 
not  to  break  the  door  down,  it  should  be  opened. 
When  unlocked,  I  rushed  in  as  well  as  I  could  over 
beds,  chairs,  cushions,  etc.  etc.,  and  to  my  surprise 
found  the  room  occupied  by  about  twenty-live  wo 
men  !  As  soon  as  they  saw  me,  and  the  soldiers 
following,  they  ran  around  me,  and  fell  on  their 
knees,  the  elder  beseeching,  in  tones  of  deep  distress, 
my  protection,  and  to  have  their  lives  spared  ;  the 
younger  begging  not  to  be  injured.  While  they 
were  thus  kneeling,  and  I  assuring  them  that  no 
harm  or  injury  should  befall  them,  a  pretty  little 
woman  slid  into  the  circle,  and  knelt  close  to  my 
feet.  *  Senor,'  said  she,  in  a  soft  and  quivering 
voice,  i  for  the  love  you  bore  your  mother,  for  the 
love  you  have  for  your  wife  and  your  children,  oh, 
spare  this  my  poor  little  babe' — holding  up  a  bright- 
eyed,  dimpled  cheeked  little  boy,  about  a  year  old. 
She  never  asked  for  herself.  In  spite  of  me,  tears 
rushed  to  my  eyes ;  and  I  could  only  speak  with  a 
full  heart,  as  I  told  her  to  rise,  arid  assured  her  that 
she  and  her  child  were  perfectly  safe." 

There  is  a  class  of  domestic  sufferings  from  war 
at  which  decency  blushes.     I  will  not  stain  these 
pages  with  minute  examples ;  but  take  a  case  of 
8* 


90  SOCIAL    AND    DOMESTIC 

suicidal  escape  from  such  outrages.  A  subaltern 
officer  in  Hussia,  having  conceived  a  passion  for  a 
fine-looking  peasant  girl,  used  every  art  to  win  her 
affections ;  but,  finding  all  his  efforts  ineffectual,  he 
applied  to  the  commanding  officer,  who  immediately 
issued  an  order  for  the  couple  to  be  forthwith  joined 
in  wedlock.  The  parents  remonstrated,  but  in  vain. 
The  day  fixed  for  the  marriage  arrived,  and  the  boor 
accompanied  his  devoted  daughter ;  but,  just  as  the 
priest  was  about  to  legalize  the  union,  the  aged 
father,  in  a  fit  of  desperation,  plunged  a  knife  into 
her  heart,  and,  presenting  her  to  the  soldier,  ex 
claimed,  "  There,  sir,  is  your  victim !" 

How  much  do  the  poor,  in  their  humble  abodes, 
suffer  from  war  !  Take  two  cases  of  privateering 
related  by  the  perpetrators  themselves.  "  These 
prizes  are  of  little  or  no  value  to  us,"  remarks  one, 
"  because  we  can  get  nobody  to  purchase  them  ;  but 
the  poor,  unhappy  people  who  lose  them,  have  lost 
their  all.  It  would  need  a  heart  of  stone  to  see  the 
sorrow  painted  on  their  countenances  when  brought 
on  board.  Some  of  them  retire  into  corners,  and 
weep  like  children.  If  you  ask  what  is  the  matter, 
a  flood  of  tears  is  the  answer.  Sometimes  you  will 
hear  them  sob  out — my  wife!  my  children  !  0  what 
will  become  of  them  ?  I  have  been  more  than  once 
obliged  to  avoid  the  affecting  sight,  unable  to  re 
strain  my  own  tears,  or  to  prevent  theirs.  It  is  far 
worse  when  a  capture  is  made  after  an  engagement 
— the  mangled  bodies  of  my  fellow-creatures  lying 
pale  and  breathless  on  the  deck,  some  dying,  and 
others  begging  me  to  put -them  out  of  their  miseries, 
while  a  hungry  dog  is  lapping  up  the  blood  that 
streams  all  about  the  ship  !)J  u  We  were  some  ten 
miles  from  Marseilles,"  says  the  narrator  of  the 
other  case,  u  when  we  saw  a  small  vessel  anchored 
in  a  narrow  bay ;  and,  fierce  for  prize-nioneyj  we 


SUFFERINGS   FROM    WAR.  91 

manned  a  boat,  and  pushed  forward  till  we  came 
within  pistol-shot  of  the  craft,  without  seeing  any 
one  except  an  old  woman  seated  in  the  door  of  a 
cottage  at  some  distance.  Just  then  a  musket-shot 
from  behind  a  rock  laid  our  bowman  a  corpse ;  an 
other  disabled  our  marine,  a  third  tore  his  cravat 
from  the  lieutenant's  neck,  and  a  fourth  crippled 
the  coxswain's  arm.  Still  we  saw  no  one  ;  and,  ex 
asperated  by  these  discharges,  we  gave  three  cheers, 
and,  pulling  for  the  place  whence  they  seemed  to 
come,  saw  at  length  a  man  and  a  boy  running  from 
us.  We  interchanged  several  shots  in  vain,  until 
the  lieutenant,  resting  his  musket  on  a  rock,  shot 
the  child  while  in  the  act  of  handing  a  cartridge  to 
the  man.  The  father  instantly  threw  down  his 
musket,  and  fell  by  the  side  of  his  son.  We  seized 
his  musket ;  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  us.  When 
we  bade  him  follow  us,  he  heeded  us  not ;  but,  with 
the  child's  head  in  his  lap,  he  kept  wiping  away  the 
blood  that  oozed  from  the  wound  in  his  forehead, 
and  neither  wept  nor  spoke,  but  watched  the  last 
chilling'  shiver  of  his  boy  with  an  eye  of  inexpressi 
ble  sadness.  Then  he  jumped  from  the  ground 
with  a  frantic  air ;  the  marine  brought  his  bayonet 
to  the  charge,  and  the  miserable  father  tried  to  run 
upon  its  point ;  but  the  marine,  dropping  his  mus 
ket,  encircled  him  in  his  arms.  We  desired  him  to 
lead  us  to  the  cottage.  The  marine  carried  the 
corpse,  and  the  father  walked  by  its  side  in  silence, 
till  we  suddenly  came  upon  the  rear  of  the  cottage. 
The  old  woman  was  still  at  her  wheel,  and,  on  dis 
covering  her  son  a  prisoner,  gave  a  shriek  which 
announced  to  a  lovely  female  in  the  hut  that  some 
thing  painful  had  occurred.  She  rushed  to  assist 
her  mother — her  eye  fell  first  upon  her  dead  son  in 
the  arms  of  an  enemy  :  and  seizing  the  boy,  she  toro 
him  from  the  marine,  kissed  him  more  like  a  maniac 


92  SOCIAL    AND    DOMESTIC 

than  a  mother,  and,  giving  one  deep,  piercing  sigh, 
fell  at  her  mother's  feet.  We  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  and  hastened  away  ;  but  that  scene  I  can 
never  blot  from  my  memory. n 

The  late  English  war  in  China  furnishes  some 
revolting  instances  of  the  domestic  desolation  con 
sequent  on  this  trade  of  blood.  "  In  almost  every 
house  the  children  had  been  madly  murdered. 
The  bodies  of  most  of  these  victims  were  found  lying 
usually  in  the  chambers  of  the-  women,  as  if  each 
father  had  assembled  his  whole  family  before  the 
massacre  ;  in  some  instances  these  poor  little  suf 
ferers  were  the  next  day  still  breathing,  and  writh 
ing  in  the  agony  of  a  broken  spine  :  the  way  in 
which  they  were  usually  put  to  death.  In  one 
house  were  found,  in  a  single  room,  the  bodies  of 
seven  dead  and  dying  persons.  It  was  evidently 
the  abode  of  a  man  of  some  consideration  ;  and  the 
delicate  forms  and  features  of  the  sufferers  indicated 
the  high  elevation  of  their  rank.  On  the  floor, 
essaying  in  vain  to  put  food  into  the  mouths  of  two 
young  children  that  were  writhing  in  the  agonies  of 
death  from  dislocated  spines,  sat  a  decrepit  old  man, 
weeping  bitterly  at  the  piteous  moans  and  convul 
sive  breathings  of  the  poor  infants.  On  a  bed  near 
these  children,  lay  a  beautiful  young  woman  appa 
rently  asleep ;  but  she  was  cold,  and  had  long  been 
dead.  One  arm  clasped  her  neck,  over  which  a  silk 
scarf  was  thrown  to  conceal  the  gash  in  her  throat 
which  had  destroyed  life.  Near  her  was  the  corpse 
of  a  woman  somewhat  older,  her  features  distorted, 
as  if  she  had  died  by  strangulation  ;  not  far  from 
her  lay  a  dead  child  stabbed  through  the  neck ;  and 
in  a  narrow  verandah  adjoining,  were  the  corpses  of 
two  more  women  suspended  by  their  necks  from  the 
rafters.  They  were  both  young,  one  quite  a  girl ; 
and  her  features,  in  spite  of  their  hideous  distor 


SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  93 

tion  from  the  mode  of  her  death,  still  retained 
traces  of  their  original  beauty." 

Glance  at  a  specimen  or  two  of  the  miseries  in 
flicted  by  a  retreating  army.  "  Murder  and  devas 
tation,"  says  an  eye-witness,  "marked  the  footsteps 
of  the  French  in  their  retreat  from  Portugal ;  every 
house  was  a  sepulchre,  a  cabin  of  horrors !  In  one 
small  village,  I  counted  seventeen  dead  bodies  of 
men,  women  and  children  ;  and  most  of  the  houses 
were  burnt  to  the  ground.  In  a  small  town  called 
Safrea,  I  saw  twelve  dead  bodies  lying  in  one  house 
upon  the  floor  ;  and  every  house  contained  traces  of 
their  wanton  barbarity."  "  Often  were  the  ditch 
es,"  says  another,  "  literally  filled  with  clotted,  coag 
ulated  blood,  as  with  mire  ;  the  bodies  of  peasants, 
put  to  death  like  dogs,  were  lying  there  horribly 
mangled ;  little  naked  infants,  only  a  year  old  or 
less,  were  found  besmeared  in  the  mud  of  the  road, 
transfixed  with  bayonet  wounds  ;  and  in  one  in 
stance  I  myself  saw  a  babe,  not  more  than  a  month 
old,  with  the  bayonet  left  still  sticking  in  its  neck  !" 

Of  the  general  desolation  attendant  on  the  sword, 
take  a  glimpse  from  the  Thirty  Years'  War  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  "  In  the  Electorate  of  Hesse, 
17  towns,  47  castles,  and  300  villages,  were  burnt 
to  the  ground.  In  the  Dutchy  of  Wirtemburg,  8 
tows,  45  villages,  and  36,000  houses,  were  laid  in 
ashes,  and  70,000  hearth-fires  completely  extin 
guished.  Seven  churches,  and  444  houses,  were 
burned  at  Eichsted.  Many  towns  that  had  escaped 
destruction,  were  almost  depopulated.  Three  hun 
dred  houses  stood  empty  at  Nordheim ;  and  more 
than  two  hundred  were  pulled  down  at  Gottingen, 
merely  to  serve  for  fuel.  The  wealthy  city  of  Augs 
burg,  which  contained  80,000  inhabitants  before  the 
war,  had  only  18,000  left  when  it  closed  ;  and  this 
town;  like  many  others  has  never  recovered  its  for- 


94 


SOCIAL    AND    DOMESTIC 


mer  prosperity.  No  less  than  30.000  villages  and 
hamlets  are  said  to  have  been  destroyed  ;  in  many 
others  the  population  entirely  died  out ;  and  the  un- 
buried  corpses  of  the  last  victims  of  violence  or  dis 
ease,  were  left  exposed  about  the  streets  or  fields,  to 
be  mangled,  and  torn  to  pieces  by  birds  and  beasts 
of  prey." 

Take  one  or  two  specimens  from  the  Russian 
campaign.  "  As  we  entered  Smolensk,"  says  La- 
baume,  "we  marched  in  every  direction  over  ruins 
and  dead  bodies.  The  palaces,  still  burning,  pre 
sented  to  our  view  only  walls  half  destroyed  by  the 
flames ;  and  thick  among  the  smoking  fragments 
lay  the  blackened  carcasses  of  the  inhabitants  who 
had  perished  in  the  fire.  The  soldiers  had  taken 
possession  of  the  few  remaining  houses,  while  the 
proprietor,  bereft  of  an  asylum,  stood  at  his  door, 
weeping  the  death  of  his  children,  and  the  loss  of 
his  fortune.  The  churches  alone  afforded  some 
consolation  to  the  wretched  beings  who  had  no  lon 
ger  a  shelter.  The  cathedral,  celebrated  through- 
o  it  Europe,  and  highly  venerated  by  the  Russians, 
became  the  refuge  of  those  who  had  escaped  the 
conflagration.  In  this  church,  and  around  its 
altars,  lay  whole  families  stretched  upon  rags. 
Here  we  saw  an  old  man  in  the  agonies  of  death, 
casting  his  last  look  towards  the  image  of  the  saint 
whom  he  had  all  his  life  invoked  ;  and  there,  an 
infant  whose  cries  the  mother,  worn  down  with 
grief,  was  endeavoring  to  hush,  and,  as  she  gave  it 
the  breast,  bathed  it  in  her  tears." 

"  From  the  terror  caused  by  our  arrival  in  Mos 
cow,  a  great  part  of  the  population  had  concealed 
themselves  in  their  houses ;  but  they  left  them  as 
the  flames  reached  their  asylums.  Fear  had  ren 
dered  their  grief  dumb ;  and  as  they  tremblingly 
quitted  their  retreats,  they  carried  oif  their  most 


SUFFERINGS    FROM    WAR.  95 

Valuable  effects,  while  those  of  more  sensibility, 
actuated  by  natural  feelings,  sought  only  to  save 
the  lives  of  their  parents  or  their  children.  On 
one  side  we  saw  a  son  carrying  a  sick  father ;  on 
the  other,  women  who  poured  the  torrent  of  their 
tears  on  the  infants  whom  they  clasped  in  their 
arms.  They  were  followed  by  the  rest  of  their 
children,  who,  fearful  of  being  lost,  ran  crying  after 
their  mothers.  Old  men,  overwhelmed  more  by 
grief  than  by  the  weight  of  years,  were  seldom  able 
to  follow  their  families  ;  and  many  of  them,  weeping 
for  the  ruin  of  their  country,  lay  down  to  die  near 
the  houses  where  they  were  born.  The  streets,  the 
public  squares,  and  especially  the  churches,  were 
crowded  with  these  unhappy  persons." 

Let  us  select  two  instances  of  domestic  anguish 
from  the  war  of  our  own  revolution.  A  state  of 
fierce,  almost  savage  exasperation  existed  between 
the  wiiigs  and  tories ;  and  a  party  of  the  latter,  on 
capturing  a  Capt.  Huddy  from  New  Jersey,  barba 
rously  hung  him  with  an  insulting  label  on  his 
bosom.  This  excited  general  indignation ;  and  the 
people  of  that  state  urged  Washington  to  secure 
justice  for  the  murder,  or  make  retaliation.  A 
grand  council  of  war  held  on  the  subject,  came  to 
the  unanimous  conclusion,  that  there  should  be 
retaliation,  that  the  victim  should  be  of  equal  rank 
with  Capt.  Huddy,  and  be  designated  by  lot.  The 
lot  fell  on  Capt.  Asgill,  a  young  man  of  nineteen, 
the  only  son  of  a  British  nobleman.  When  the 
tidings,  which  interested  many  in  his  fate,  reached 
England,  his  sister  was  sick  with  a  delirious  fever, 
and  his  father  so  near  his  end  that  his  family  did 
not  venture  to  inform  him  of  the  affair.  The  mo 
ther  applied  to  the  king  and  queen  in  behalf  of  her 
son,  and  wrote  an  impassioned  letter  to  the  French 
minister.  "The  subject."  says  sho,  "on  which  I 


95  SOCIAL  AND  DOMESTIC 

implore  your  assistance,  is  too  heart-rending  to  be 
dwelt  on.  My  son,  my  only  son,  dear  to  me  as  he 
is  brave,  amiable  as  he  is  beloved,  only  nineteen 
years  of  age,  a  prisoner  of  war,  at  present  coiifined 
in  America  as  an  object  of  reprisal.  Figure  to 
yourself,  sir,  the  situation  of  a  family  in  these  cir 
cumstances.  Surrounded  with  objects  of  distress, 
bowed  down  with  grief,  words  are  wanting  to  paint 
the  scenes  of  misery  around  me.  My  husband, 
given  over  by  his  physicians  some  hours  before  the 
arrival  of  this  news,  not  in  a  condition  to  be  inform 
ed  of  it ;  and  my  daughter  attacked  by  a  delirious 
fever,  and  speaking  of  her  brother  in  tones  of  wild- 
ness  without  any  interval  of  reason,  unless  it  be  to 
listen  to  some  circumstances  which  may  console  her 
heart.  Let  your  own  sensibility  conceive  my  pro 
found,  inexpressible  misery,  and  plead  in  my  favor 
for  a  son  born  to  abundance,  to  independence,  and 
the  happiest  prospects.  Permit  me  once  more  to 
entreat  your  interference  ;  but  whether  my  request 
be  granted  or  not,  I  am  confident  you  will  pity  the 
distress  by  which  it  is  prompted,  and  your  human 
ity  will  drop  a  tear  on  my  fault,  and  blot  it  out 
forever." 

The  other  case  is  still  more  touching.  Col. 
Hayne.  of  South  Carolina,  a  man  of  high  character, 
endeared  to  all  that  knew  his  worth,  and  bound  fast 
to  life  by  six  small  children,  and  a  wife  tenderly 
beloved,  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  British,  and 
sentenced  to  be  hung  !  His  wife,  falling  a  victim  to 
disease  and  grief  combined,  did  not  live  to  plead  for 
her  husband  ;  but  great  and  generous  efforts  were 
made  by  others  for  his  rescue.  A  large  number,  both 
Americans  and  Englishmen,  interceded  in  his  behalf ; 
the  ladies  of  Charleston  signed  a  petition  for  his  re 
lease  ;  and  his  six  motherless  children  were  presented 
on  their  knees  as  humble  suitors  for  the  life  of  their 


SUFFERINGS   FROM   WAR.  97 

father.  It  was  all  in  vain ;  for  war  has  no  heart 
but  of  iron.  His  oldest  son,  a  lad  about  thirteen 
years  old,  was  permitted,  as  a  special  favor,  to  stay 
with  him  awhile  in  prison.  On  seeing  his  father 
loaded  with  irons,  and  condemned  to  die  on  the 
gallows,  the  poor  boy  was  overwhelmed  with  con 
sternation  and  grief.  The  wretched  father  tried  to 
console  him  by  various  considerations,  and  added, 
"  To-morrow,  my  son.  I  set  out  for  immortality  ;  you 
will  follow  me  to  the  place  of  my  execution  ;  and, 
when  I  am  dead,  take  my  body,  and  bury  it  by  the 
side  of  your  dear  mother."  Overcome  by  this  ap 
peal,  the  boy  threw  his  arms  around  his  father's 
neck,  crying,  "  0  my  father,  I'll  die  with  you !  I 
will  die  with  you,  father !"  The  wretched  father, 
still  loaded  down  with  irons,  was  unable  to  return 
his  son's  embrace,  and  could  merely  say  in  reply, 
''  No,  my  son,  never  !  Live  to  honor  G-od  by  a  good 
life  ;  live  to  serve  your  country,  and  to  take  care  of 
your  brother  and  little  sisters." 

The  next  morning,  Col.  Hayne  was  led  forth  to 
execution.  That  fond  and  faithful  boy  accompanied 
him  ;  and,  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  gallows, 
the  father  turned  to  him,  and  said,  "  Now  my  son, 
show  yourself  a  man.  That  tree  is  the  boundary 
of  my  life,  and  all  its  sorrows.  Beyond  that,  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are 
forever  at  rest.  Don't,  my  son,  lay  our  separation 
too  much  at  heart ;  it  will  be  short  at  longest.  It  was 
but  the  other  day  your  dear  mother  died  ;  to-day  I 
die  ;  and  you,  my  son,  though  young,  must  follow  us 
shortly."  "  Yes,  my  father,"  replied  the  broken 
hearted  boy,  "  I  shall  follow  you  shortly  ;  for  I  feel 
indeed  that  I  can't — can't  live  long."  And  so  it 
was  ;  for,  on  seeing  his  much-loved  father  first  in 
the  hands  of  the  executioner,  and  then  struggling 
in  the  halter  from  the  gallows,  he  stood  transfixed 
9 


98  A    FEW   SKETCHES    OF 

with  horror.  Till  then,  he  had  all  along  wept  pro 
fusely  as  some  relief  to  his  agonized  feelings ;  but 
that  sight ! — it  dried  up  the  fountain  of  his  tears ; — 
he  never  wept  again.  His  reason  reeled  on  the 
spot ;  he  became  an  incurable  maniac ;  and  in  his 
last  moments,  he  called  out,  and  kept  calling  out 
for  his  father  in  tones  that  drew  tears  from  the 
hardest  hearts. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

A    FEW    SKETCHES    OF    THE    HORRORS    OF   WAR. 

WE  have  already  exhibited  some  of  the  horrors 
attendant  on  war ;  but  we  wish  to  add  a  few  miscel 
laneous  specimens,  culled  mainly  from  the  wars  of 
Christendom  in  the  present  century. 

"  Sir,"  said  an  old  soldier  to  a  peace  lecturer  in 
England,  "  all  you  have  related  I  have  seen,  and  a 
great  deal  more.  I  was  on  the  field  of  Waterloo  ; 
and  there  I  saw,  on  a  plot  of  ground  not  much 
larger  than  a  gentleman's  garden,  six  thousand  of 
my  fellow-men  with  mangled  limbs,  dead  and  dying. r> 

During  the  expedition  of  the  French  into  Egypt, 
they  marched  where  the  whole  way  was  strewed  with 
the  bones  and  bodies  of  men  and  animals :  there 
was  but  one  solitary  tree  to  be  seen  ;  and  to  warm 
themselves  at  night,  they  gathered  together  those 
dry  bones  and  bodies  of  the  dead,  and  by  a  fire 
composed  of  such  fuel,  Napoleon  lay  down  to  sleep 
in  the  desert !  The  sufferings  and  horrors  of  their 
march  were  in  some  instances  so  great,  that  many 
of  his  soldiers  killed  themselves  in  despair ;  and 


THE   HORRORS   OF   WAR.  99 

some,  going  up  to  the  general  who  had  tempted  them 
to  embark  in  this  expedition,  blew  out  their  brains 
in  his  presence,  exclaiming,  "  this  is  your  work." 

Napoleon's  massacre  in  cold  blood  of  4000  Turks 
at  Jaffa,  was  horrible  beyond  description.  Driven 
to  the  sand-hills  near  that  city,  they  were  halted 
near  a  pool,  when  the  officer  in  command  divided 
the  mass  into  small  bodies,  and  ordered  them  all  to 
be  shot  down  in  rows.  This  horrid  operation, 
though  many  troops  were  employed,  required  much 
time  ;  and  the  soldiers,  having  at  length  exhausted 
their  cartridges,  found  it  necessary  to  dispatch  the 
remainder  with  the  bayonet  and  the  sword  !  There 
was  formed  there  a  pyramid  of  the  dead  and  the 
dying,  streaming  with  blood  ;  and  the  soldiers  were 
obliged  to  drag  away  the  bodies  of  those  who  had 
already  expired,  in  order  to  finish  the  wretches  who, 
hid  under  this  shocking  rampart,  had  not  yet  been 
reached ! 

Take,  from  an  English  reviewer,  a  sketch  of  the 
way  in  which  the  British  troops  re-captured  the 
cities  of  Spain  from  the  French.  "  Thousands,"  he 
says,  "  rushed  through  the  breaches,  and  trampled 
one  another  to  death  at  the  very  mouths  of  the 
French  guns,  which  cut  them  down  by  regiments  ; 
while  the  shrieks  and  cries  of  the  wounded,  the 
howls  of  the  maddened,  the  roar  of  ordnance,  the 
shouts  of  an  army,  the  bewilderment  of  midnight, 
and  the  horrible  stench  of  burnt  human  flesh,  lit 
up  by  the  flash  of  unnumbered  guns  and  musketry, 
seemed  like  the  wild  burning  waves  of  the  bot 
tomless  pit  rolling  over  the  souls  of  the  shrieking 
lost.  Still  on,  on  they  rush.  There  is  no  mad 
ness  like  a  maddened  mob.  Hundreds  were  im 
paled  upon  the  sharp  sword-blades  fastened  in  rows 
across  the  breaches ;  yet  hundreds  more  pressed 
on,  and  fell  upon  other  tiers  of  the  same  horrible 


100  A    FEW    SKETCHES    OF 

instruments.  Over  these,  as  they  writhed  and 
shrieked,  mounted  others,  and  trod  and  crushed 
them  down,  till  an  army  passed  over,  unharmed 
by  the  pointed  steel  beneath ;  and  even  horsemen 
rushed  upon  this  causeway  of  living  beings,  and 
trampled  and  crushed  it  into  a  reeking  jelly  of 
human  flesh  and  blood,  and  still  plunged*  onward 
through  the  crimson  river  which  flowed  beyond !" 

The  Russian  campaign  was  a  series  of  horrors 
from  which  we  will  select  a  few  specimens.  Take 
the  passage  of  the  Berezina : — "  There  were  two 
bridges,"  says  Labaurne,  *c  one  for  the  carriages,  the 
other  for  the  infantry  ;  but  the  crowd  was  so  great 
and  the  approaches  so  dangerous,  that  the  throng 
collected  on  the  bank  of  the  Berezina  became  inca 
pable  of  moving.  In  spite  of  these  difficulties,  some 
who  were  on  foot  saved  themselves  by  their  perse 
verance  ;  but  about  8  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the 
bridge  reserved  for  the  carriages  having  broken 
down,  the  baggage  and  artillery  advanced  to  the 
other,  and  attempted  to  force  a  passage.  Then  be 
gan  a  frightful  contest  between  the  infantry  and  the 
cavalry,  in  which  many  of  them  perished  by  the 
hands  of  their  comrades  ;  and  a  still  greater  number 
were  suffocated  at  the  foot  of  the  bridge,  where  the 
carcasses  of  men  and  horses  obstructed  the  road  to 
such  a  degree,  that  to  approach  the  river,  it  was  ne 
cessary  to  climb  over  the  bodies  of  those  who  had 
been  crushed.  Some  of  them  were  still  alive,  and 
struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death.  In  order  to 
extricate  themselves,  they  caught  hold  of  those  who 
were  marching  over  them  ;  but  the  latter  disengaged 
themselves  with  violence,  and  trampled  them  under 
their  feet.  While  they  contended  with  so  much 
fury,  the  following  multitude,  like  a  raging  wave, 
incessantly  overwhelmed  fresh  victims. 

"In  the  midst  of  this  dreadful  confusion,  the 


THE    HORRORS    OF    WAR 


101 


Russians  made  a  furious  attack  on  the  rear-guard  ; 
and  in  the  heat  of  the  engagement,  many  balls  fell 
on  the  miserable  crowd  that  for  three  days  had  been 
pressing  round  the  bridge,  and  even  some  shells 
burst  in  the  midst  of  them.  Terror  and  despair 
then  took  possession  of  every  heart  anxious  for  self- 
preservation  ;  women  and  children,  who  had  escaped 
so  many  disasters,  seemed  to  •have.beea,  preserved 
to  experience  a  death  still  more  deplorable.  .Leav 
ing  their  carriages,  they  ran  to  'e-nbr^ac-a  'the.lsnoi'S 
of  the  first  person  they  met,  and  implored  him  with 
tears  to  take  them  to  the  other  side.  The  sick  and 
wounded,  seated  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  or  support 
ed  on  crutches,  looked  eagerly  for  some  friend  that 
could  assist  them  ;  but  their  cries  were  lost  in  the 
air — every  one  thought  only  of  his  own  safety. 

"  On  seeing  the  enemy,  those  who  had  not  crossed, 
mingling  with  the  Poles,  rushed  towards  the  bridge  ; 
artillery,  baggage,  cavalry  and  infantry,  all  endea 
vored  to  pass  first.  The  strong  threw  the  weak  into 
the  water,  and  trampled  under  foot  the  sick  and 
Bounded  whom  they  found  in  their  way.  Many 
hundreds  were  crushed  under  the  wheels  of  the  ar 
tillery;  and  others,  who  had  hoped  to  save  them 
selves  by  swimming,  were  frozen  or  drowned  in  the 
river.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  hopeless  vic 
tims,  notwithsanding  these  sorrowful  examples, 
threw  themselves  into  the  Berezina,  where  they 
nearly  all  perished  in  convulsions  of  grief  and  des 
pair.  The  division  of  Girard  succeeded  by  force 
of  arms  in  overcoming  all  the  obstacles  that  retard^ 
ed  their  march,  and,  scaling  the  mountain  of  dead 
bodies  that  obstructed  the  road,  gained  the  opposite 
shore,  where  the  Russians  would  soon  have  followed 
them,  if  they  had  not  immediately  set  fire  to  the 
bridge.  Many  of  those  who  were  left  on  the  other 
bank  with  the  prospect  of  the  most  horrible  death, 
9* 


102  A   FEW    SKETCHES   OF 

attempted  to  cross  the  bridge  through  the  flames  J 
but  midway  they  threw  themselves  into  the  river  to 
avoid  being  burnt.  At  length,  the  Russians  having 
made  themselves  masters  of  the  field  of  battle,  our 
troops  retired  ;  the  passage  of  the  river  ceased,  and 
the  most  tremendous  uproar  was  succeeded  by  a 
death-like  silence." 

/'  On  th'.j  jDo.r,aing  of  November  17th,"  says  La- 
baume,  "  we  left  Liadoui  before  daybreak,  and  were, 
itsc.ording  to  custom,  lighted  by  the  fire  of  the  build 
ings  which  bogaa  io  burn.  Among  the  burning 
houses  were  three  large  barns  filled  with  poor  sol 
diers,  chiefly  wounded.  They  could  not  escape 
from  two  of  these  without  passing  through  the  one 
in  front,  which  was  on  fire.  The  most  active  saved 
themselves  by  leaping  out  of  the  windows ;  but  all 
those  who  were  sick  or  crippled,  not  having  strength 
to  move,  saw  the  flames  advancing  rapidly  to  devour 
them.  Touched  by  their  shrieks,  some,  who  were 
least  hardened,  endeavored  in  vain  to  save  them  ; 
but  we  could  scarcely  see  them  half-buried  under 
the  burning  rafters.  Through  whirlwinds  of  smoke 
they  entreated  us  to  shorten  their  sufferings  by  de 
priving  them  of  life  ;  and,  from  motives  of  humanity, 
we  thought  it  our  duty  to  comply  with  their  wishes  1 
As  there  were  some  who  still  survived,  we  heard 
them  with  feeble  voices  crying,  '  Fire  on  us  !  fire  on 
us !  at  the  head  !  at  the  head !  dorft  miss  /'  " 

The  battle  of  Eylau  was  fought  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  amidst  ice  and  snow,  under  circumstances  of 
unexampled  horror.  The  loss  on  both  sides  was 
immense  ;  and  seldom  in  modern  times  had  a  field  of 
battle  been  strewn  with  such  a  multitude  of  slain. 
On  the  side  of  the  Russians  25,000  had  fallen,  of 
whom  above  7000  were  already  no  more  ;  OR  that  of 
the  French,  upwards  of  3U,000  were  killed  or 
wounded  and  nearly  10;000  had  left  their  colors, 


THE    HORRORS    OF    WAR. 


103 


under  pretence  of  attending  to  the  wounded.  Never 
was  a  spectacle  so  dreadful  as  the  field  presented 
on  the  following  morning.  Above  50,000  men  lay 
in  the  space  of  two  leagues,  weltering  in  blood.  The 
wounds  were,  for  the  most  part,  of  the  severest  kind, 
from  the  extraordinary  quantity  of  cannon-balls 
which  had  been  discharged  during  the  action,  and 
the  close  proximity  of  the  contending  masses  to  the 
deadly  batteries  which  spread  their  grape  at  half- 
musket  shot  through  their  ranks.  Though  stretch 
ed  on  the  cold  snow,  and  exposed  to  the  severity  of 
an  arctic  winter,  they  were  burning  with  thirst,  and 
piteous  cries  were  heard  on  all  sides  for  water  or 
assistance  to  extricate  the  wounded  from  the  heaps 
of  slain,  or  the  load  of  horses  by  which  they  were 
crushed.  Six  thousand  of  these  noble  animals  en- 
eumbered  the  field,  or,  maddened  with  pain,  were 
shrieking  aloud  aniid  the  stifled  groans  of  the 
wounded. 

Still  more  horrible  was  the  field  of  Borodino. 
u  Before  daybreak,  September  7th,"  says  Labaume, 
"  the  two  armies  were  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle. 
Two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  men  waited,  in  awful 
suspense,  the  signal  to  engage.  At  six  o'clock,  the 
thunder  of  artillery  broke  the  dreadful  silence.  The 
battle  soon  became  general,  and  raged  with  tremend 
ous  fury.  The  fire  of  two  hundred  pieces  of  cannon 
enveloped  the  two  armies  in  smoke,  and,  mowing 
down  whole  battalions,  strewed  the  field  with  the 
dead  and  the  wounded.  The  latter  fell  to  expose 
themselves  to  a  fate  still  more  terrible.  How  agoni 
zing  their  situation  !  Forty  thousand  dragoons  cross 
ing  the  field  in  every  direction,  trampled  them  under 
foot,  and  dyed  the  horses'  hoofs  in  their  blood.  The 
flying  artillery,  in  rapid  and  alternate  advance  and 
retreat,  put  a  period  to  the  anguish  of  some,  and 
inflicted  new  torments  on  others  who  were  mangled 


104  A    FEW    SKETCHES    OF 

by  their  wheels.  A  redoubt  in  the  centre  of  the 
Russian  army  was  several  times  taken  and  retaken 
with  desperate  slaughter,  but  finally  remained  in 
possession  of  the  French.  The  interior  of  the  re 
doubt  presented  a  frightful  scene ;  the  dead  were 
heaped  on  each  other,  and  among  them  were  many 
wounded  whose  cries  eould  not  be  heard.  Night 
separated  the  cornbatants7  but  left  eighty  thousand 
men  dead  on  the  field  ! 

"  In  traversing  next  day  the  elevated  plain  on 
vhich  we  had  fought,  we  were  enabled  to  form  an 
estimate  of  the  immense  loss  sustained  by  the  Rus 
sians.  A  surface  of  about  nine  square  miles  in  ex 
tent,  was  covered  with  the  killed  and  wounded,  with 
the  wreck  of  arms,  lances,  helmets  and  cuirasses, 
and  with  balls  as  numerous  as  hail-stones  after  a 
violent  storm.  In  many  places  the  bursting  of 
shells  had  overturned  men  and  horses ;  and  such 
was  the  havoc  occasioned  by  repeated  discharges-, 
that  mountains  of  dead  bodies  were  raised.  But  the 
most  dreadful  spectacle  was  the  interior  of  the  ra 
vines,  where  the  wounded  had  instinctively  crawled 
to  avoid  the  shot.  Here  these  unfortunate  wretches, 
lying  one  upon  another,  destitute  of  assistance,  and 
weltering  in  their  blood,  uttered  the  most  horrid 
groans.  Loudly  invoking  death,  they  besought  us 
to  put  an  end  to  their  excruciating  torments." 

Nearly  two  months  after  that  battle,  its  80,000 
victims  were  found  lying  where  they  had  fallen ; 
and  the  whole  plain  was  strewed  with  the  carcasses 
of  men  and  horses,  intermingled  with  garments 
dyed  in  blood,  and  with  bones  gnawed  by  dogs  and 
vultures.  "  As  we  were  marching  on  our  return 
from  Moscow,  over  the  scene  of  the  battle,"  says 
Labaume,  "  we  heard  a  piteous  sound  at  a  distance  5 
and  on  reaching  the  spot,  we  found  a  French  soldier 
stretched  on  the  ground,  with  both  his  legs  broken. 


THE    HORRORS   OF   WAR. 


105 


c  I  was  wounded,'  said  he,  *  on  the  day  of  the  great 
battle ;  and  finding  myself  in  a  lonely  place,  where 
I  could  gain  no  assistance,  I  dragged  myself  with 
niy  hands  to  the  brink  of  a  rivulet,  and  have  lived 
nearly  two  months  on  grass  and  roots,  and  a  few 
pieces  of  bread  which  I  found  among  the  dead 
bodies.  At  night  I  have  lain  in  the  carcasses  of 
dead  horses ;  and  with  the  flesh  of  these  animals  I 
have  dressed  niy  wounds.'  " 

Thus  far  Labauine  ;  and  Alison  quotes  from  eye 
witnesses  statements  not  less  terribly  graphic. 
"  On  Sunday  forenoon,"  says  one,  "  I  found  a  crowd 
collected  round  a  car  in  which  some  wounded  sol 
diers  had  just  returned  from  Russia.  No  grenade 
or  grape  could  have  so  disfigured  these  victims  of 
the  cold.  One  of  them  had  lost  the  upper  joints  of 
all  his  ten  fingers,  and  he  showed  us  the  stumps. 
Another  wanted  both  ears  and  nose.  More  horrible 
still  was  the  look  of  a  third,  whose  eyes  had  been 
frozen  ;  the  eyelids  hung  down  rotting,  and  the 
globes  of  the  eyes  were  burst,  and  protruded  from 
their  sockets.  It  was  awfully  hideous  ;  but  a  spec 
tacle  yet  more  dreadful  was  to  present  itself.  Out 
of  the  straw  in  the  bottom  of  a  car,  I  now  beheld  a 
figure  creep  painfully,  which  one  could  scarcely  be 
lieve  to  be  a  human  being,  so  wild  and  distorted 
were  the  features ;  the  lips  were  rotted  away,  and 
the  teeth  stood  exposed  ;  he  pulled  the  cloth  from 
before  his  mouth,  and  grinned  upon  us  like  a  death's 
head!" 

Most  persons  seem  to  suppose  there  never  were 
such  wars  as  those  of  Napoleon ;  but  take  a  few 
general  facts  respecting  the  Thirty  Years'  War  in 
the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century.  "  The  crimes 
and  cruelties  of  which  the  troops  were  frequently 
guilty,  would  appear  almost  incredible,  were  they 
not  attested  in  a  manner  to  render  doubt  altogether 


106  A    FEW    SKETCHES    OF 

impossible.  But  independent  of  private  accounts, 
we  have  various  reports  from  the  authorities  of 
towns,  villages  and  provinces,  complaining  of  the 
atrocities  committed  by  the  lawless  soldiery.  Peace 
ful  peasants  were  hunted  for  mere  sport,  like  the 
beasts  of  the  forest ;  citizens  were  nailed  up  against 
doors  and  walls,  and  fired  at  like  targets  ;  while 
horsemen  and  Croats  tried  their  skill  at  striking  off 
the  heads  of  young  children  at  a  blow  !  Ears  and 
noses  were  cut  off,  eyes  were  scooped  out,  and  the 
most  horrible  tortures  contrived  to  extract  money 
from  the  sufferers,  or  to  make  them  disclose  where 
property  was  concealed !  Women  were  exposed  to 
every  species  of  indignity  ;  they  were  collected  in 
bands,  and  driven,  like  slaves,  into  the  camps  of  the 
ruffian  soldiery ;  and  men  had  to  fly  from  their 
homes  to  escape  witnessing  the  dishonor  to  which 
their  wives  and  daughters  were  subjected  ! 

Houses  and  villages  were  burnt  out  of  mere  wan 
tonness,  and  the  wretched  inhabitants  too  often 
forced  into  the  flames,  to  be  consumed  along  with 
their  dwellings.  Amid  these  scenes  of  horror,  in 
temperance,  dissipation  and  profligacy  were  carried 
to  the  highest  pitch.  The  peasants,  expelled  from 
their  homes,  enlisted  with  their  oppressors  to  inflict 
upon  others  the  sufferings  which  they  had  them 
selves  been  made  to  endure.  The  fields  were  al 
lowed  to  run  waste ;  and  the  absence  of  industry 
on  one  side,  added  to  destruction  on  the  other,  soon 
produced  famine,  which,  as  usual,  brought  infectious 
and  pestilential  diseases  in  its  train.  In  1635  there 
were  not  hands  enough  left  at  Schweidnitz  to  bury 
the  dead,  and  the  town  of  Ohlau  had  lost  its  last 
citizen  !  In  many  places  hunger  had  overcome  all 
repugnance  to  human  flesh ;  and  the  tales  of  canni 
balism  handed  down  to  us,  are  far  too  horrible  to 
be  repeated.  Forests  sprung  up  over  entire  dis- 


MORAL   ELEMENTS   OF    WAR.  107 

tricts,  which  had  been  in  full  cultivation  before  the 
war  ;  and  wolves  and  other  beasts  of  prey  prowled 
alone  over  the  deserted  haunts  of  men." 


PART  II. 

MORAL  EVILS  OF  WAR, 


CHAPTER    I. 

MORAL    ELEMENTS    OF    WAR. 

WAR  is  not  an  abstraction,  but  a  terrible  reality. 
We  must  take  it  as  we  find  it  in  fact ;  and,  if  we 
would  ascertain  its  real  character,  we  must  analyze 
its  moral  elements,  as  the  measure  of  its  actual  tur 
pitude.  We  may  perhaps  theorize  war  into  com 
parative  innocence  ;  but  its  principles,  its  practice, 
and  invariable  results,  will  ever  give  the  lie  to  such 
theories,  and  prove  the  custom  a  tissue  of  wicked 
ness  and  misery. 

War  is  purely,  intensely  selfish.  A  nation  fights, 
not  for  the  welfare  of  its  enemies,  nor  for  the 
general  good  of  mankind,  but  for  its  own  pride,  am 
bition,  or  other  interests.  Individuals  may  be  dis 
interested  ;  but  nations  have  little  regard  for  the 
brotherhood  of  their  race.  They  commonly  act  on 
the  principle  of  a  base,  all-engrossing  selfishness, 
and  glory  in  it  as  the  very  acme  of  their  aspirations. 
"  A  statesman,"  says  Channing,  "  is  expected  to 
take  advantage  of  the  weaknesses  and  wants  of  other 


108  M.OHAL   ELEMENTS    OF   WAR. 

countries.  How  loose  a  morality  governs  the  inter 
course  of  states !  What  falsehoods  and  intrigues 
are  licensed  by  diplomacy  !  What  nation  regards 
another  with  true  friendship  ?  What  nation  makes 
sacrifices  to  another's  good  ?  What  nation  is  as 
anxious  to  perform  its  duties,  as  to  assert  its  rights  ? 
What  nation  chooses  to  suffer  wrong,  rather  than 
to  inflict  it  ?  What  nation  lays  down  the  everlast 
ing  law  of  right,  casts  itself  fearlessly  on  its  princi 
ples,  and  chooses  to  be  poor,  or  to  perish,  rather  than 
to  do  wrong  ?  Can  communities  so  selfish,  so  un 
friendly,  so  uprincipled.  so  unjust,  be  expected  to 
wage  righteous  wars  ?  Especially  if  with  this  sel 
fishness  are  joined  national  prejudices,  antipathies, 
and  exasperated  passions,  what  else  can  be  expected 
in  the  public  policy  but  inhumanity  and  crime?" 

War  is,  also,  an  instrument  of  great  practical  in 
justice.  It  has  no  real  criterion  of  right.  It  pro 
poses  to  determine  justice  by  an  appeal  not  to  rea 
son,  or  law,  or  competent,  impartial  umpires,  but  to 
the  blind,  brutal  arbitrament  of  the  sword.  When 
a  point  of  honor,  or  a  claim  for  indemnity,  or  a  ques 
tion  of  boundary,  is  in  dispute,  war  sets  a  few  hun 
dred  thousand  men,  who  know  no  cause  of  quarrel 
between  themselves,  to  cutting  each  others'  throats 
in  order  to  settle  the  controversy  :  and,  after  con 
tinuing  this  mutual  butchery  awhile,  the  parties,  as 
the  only  way  to  a  satisfactory  adjustment,  stop  fight 
ing,  and  dispatch  plenipotentiaries  to  negotiate  a 
treaty  of  peace,  generally  on  the  principle  of  put 
ting  everything  back,  as  far  as  possible,  in  the  same 
state  as  before  the  conflict  began. 

Nor  do  the  evils  of  war  fall  upon  its  guilty  abet 
tors.  A  few  rulers  of  one  nation  get  into  a  quarrel 
with  those  of  another,  and  then  set  the  people  of 
both  to  blowing  out  each  others'  brains,  destroying 
each  others'  property,  and  inflicting  the  greatest 


MORAL   ELEMENTS   OF   WAR,  109 

rsible  amount  of  reciprocal  mischief  and  misery. 
the  real  authors  of  war  would  themselves  do  the 
fighting,  pay  the  expenses,  and  endure  all  the  suf 
fering,  humanity  could  afford  to  witness  now  and 
then  the  spectacle  of  so  righteous  a  retribution  upon 
the  titled  madmen  who  kindle  the  strife  of  nations  ; 
but  these  giants  of  crime,  carefully  keeping  them 
selves  aloof  from  the  deluge  of  evils  they  have 
opened  upon  the  people,  merely  "  cry  havoc,  and  let 
slip  the  dogs  of  war."  They  go  not  to  the  war 
themselves,  except  as  officers  with  enormous  salaries, 
and  then  fight  their  country's  battles  very  much  as 
Napoleon  fought  the  battle  of  Waterloo — with  his 
spy-glass  two  miles  off!  The  people  are  the  chief, 
almost  the  only  sufferers  from  war.  It  is  their 
blood  that  is  poured  out  like  water,  their  property 
that  is  squandered  or  destroyed  by  millions,  their 
cities  and  villages  that  are  laid  in  ashes,  their  fam 
ilies  that  are  butchered  or  beggared,  their  sinews 
that  are  taxed  through  all  coming  time  to  pay  for 
these  games  of  blood  played  by  rulers  solely  for 
their  own  gratification  or  emolument.  There  is 
not  on  earth  such  a  system  of  popular  injustice,  op 
pression  and  outrage. 

Well  does  Dr.  Johnson  say,  "  If  he  that  shared 
the  danger  enjoyed  the  profit,  and,  after  bleeding 
in  the  battle,  grew  rich  by  the  victory,  he  might 
then  enjoy  his  gains  without  envy ;  but,  at  the  con 
clusion  of  a  ten  years'  war,  how  are  we  recompensed 
for  the  death  of  multitudes,  and  the  expense  of  mil 
lions,  by  contemplating  the  sudden  glories  of  pay 
masters  and  agents,  contractors  and  commissaries, 
whose  equipages  shine  like  meteors,  and  whose  pala 
ces  rise  like  exhalations  ?  These  are  the  men  who, 
without  virtue,  labor  or  hazard,  grow  rich  as  their 
country  is  impoverished.  They  rejoice  when  obsti 
nacy  or  ambition  adds  another  year  to  slaughter  and 
10 


110  MOKAL   ELEMENTS   OF   WAR. 

t 

devastation,  and  laugh  from  their  desks  at  bravery 
and  science,  while  they  are  adding  figure  to  figure, 
cipher  to  cipher,  hoping  for  a  new  contract  from  a 
new  armament,  and  computing  the  profits  of  a  siege 
or  a  tempest." 

Dean  Swift's  definition  of  a  soldier  holds  the 
mirror  up  to  war.  "  A  soldier,"  says  he,  "  is  a  being 
hired  to  kill,  in  cold  blood,  as  many  as  he  possibly 
can  of  his  own  species  who  have  never  injured  him." 
Equally  just  is  Voltaire's  scorching  sarcasm  :  "  A 
genealogist  sets  forth  to  a  prince,  that  he  is  descend 
ed  from  a  count  whose  kindred,  three  or  four  hun 
dred  years  ago,  had  made  a  family  compact  with  a 
house,  the  memory  of  which  is  now  extinguished. 
That  house  had  some  distant  claim  to  a  province  ; 
and  hereupon  the  prince  and  his  council  resolve, 
that  this  province  belongs  to  him  of  divine  right. 
The  province  itself  protests  it  does  not  even  know 
him  ;  but  he  insists  that  his  right  is  incontestable. 
So  he  instantly  picks  up  a  multitude  who  have  no 
thing  to  do,  and  nothing  to  lose,  clothes  them  in 
coarse  blue  cloth,  puts  on  them  hats  bound  with 
coarse  white  worsted,  makes  them  turn  to  the  right 
and  left,  and  thus  marches  them  away  to  glory ! 
Other  princes,  on  hearing  of  this  armament,  take  part 
in  it,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  and  soon  cover  a 
small  extent  of  country  with  more  hireling  murder 
ers  than  Jenghiz-khan,  Tamerlane  and  Bajazet  had 
at  their  heels.  And  these  multitudes  furiously 
murder  one  another,  not  only  without  having  any 
concern  in  the  quarrel,  but  without  so  much  as 
knowing  what  it  is  about !" 

Nor  is  Leigh  Hunt's  account  of  the  matter  lesa 
true  to  the  life  :  "  Two  nations,  or,  most  likely,  two 
governments,  have  a  dispute  ;  they  reason  the  point 
backwards  and  forwards  :  they  cannot  determine  it, 
perhaps  do  not  wish  to  determine  it ;  so,  like  two 


MORAL   ELEMENTS   OF   W^R.  Ill 

carmen  in  the  street,  they  fight  it  out ;  first,  how 
ever,  dressing  themselves  up  to  look  fine,  and  plum 
ing  themselves  on  their  absurdity,  just  as  if  the  two 
carmen  were  to  go  and  put  on  their  Sunday  clothes, 
and  stick  a  feather  in  their  hats  besides,  in  order  to 
be  as  dignified  and  fantastic  as  possible.  Then  they 
go  at  it,  and  cover  themselves  with  mud,  blood  and 
glory !  Can  anything  be  more  ridiculous  ?  Yet 
the  similitude  is  not  one  atom  too  ludicrous ;  no, 
nor  a  thousandth  part  enough  so.  I  firmly  believe 
that  war,  or  the  sending  thousands  of  our  fellow- 
creatures  to  cut  one  another  to  bits,  often  for  what 
they  have  no  concern  in,  nor  understand,  will  one 
day  be  reckoned  far  more  absurd  than  if  people 
were  to  settle  an  argument  over  the  dinner  table 
with  their  knives  ;  a  logic,  indeed,  which  was  once 
fashionable  in  some  places  during  the  i  good  old 
times.'  The  world  has  seen  the  absurdity  of  that 
practice  ;  why  should  ifc  not  come  to  years  of  dis 
cretion  with  respect  to  violence  upon  a  larger  scale  ?" 
War,  moreover,  is  an  engine  of  wholesale  mischief. 
It  has  no  other  aim.  Its  weapons  are  all  formed, 
its  plans  all  laid,  its  operations  all  carried  on,  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  making  others  as  miserable  as 
possible,  and  thus  compelling  their  submission  to 
our  terms.  Sufferings  of  every  kind  are  not  merely 
incidental  to  war  ;  they  are  inseparable  from  any  of 
its  forms,  and  constitute  its  grand,  essential  elements. 
They  are  a  part  of  the  system.  Misery  is  always 
its  object  or  its  means  ;  and  war,  without  a  fearful 
waste  of  property,  life  and  happiness,  is  an  utter 
impossibility,  a  contradiction  in  terms.  Its  whole 
business  is  to  plunder,  and  burn,  and  butcher,  and 
ravage,  and  destroy ;  and  to  talk  of  a  war  that  did 
not  perpetrate  such  atrocities,  and  inflict  such  mise 
ries  by  wholesale,  would  be  as  contradictory  as  to 
speak  of  vision  without  light,  or  of  fire  without  heat. 


112  MORAL    ELEMENTS    OF    WAR. 

"  War,"  says  an  eloquent  writer,  "  is  a  state  in 
which  all  our  feelings  and  all  our  duties  suffer  a 
strange,  a  total  invasion  ;  a  state  in  which  life  dies, 
death  lives,  and  nature  produces  all  monstrous,  all 
prodigious  things  ;  a  state  in  which  it  becomes  our 
business  to  hurt  and  annoy  our  neighbors  by  all 
possible  means — instead  of  cultivating,  to  destroy ; 
instead  of  building,  to  pull  down  ;  instead  of  peo 
pling,  to  desolate ;  a  state  in  which  we  drink  the 
tears  and  miseries  of  our  fellow-creatures.  We 
should  therefore  do  well  to  translate  this  word  war 
into  language  more  intelligible ;  and,  when  we  pay  our 
army  and  navy  estimates,  let  us  set  down  so  much  for 
killing,  so  much  for  maiming,  so  much  for  making  wid 
ows  and  orphans,  so  much  for  bringing  famine  upon 
a  district,  so  much  for  corrupting  citizens  and  sub 
jects  into  spies  and  traitors  ;  so  much  for  ruining 
industrious  tradesmen,  and  making  bankrupts ;  so 
much  for  letting  loose  the  demons  of  fury,  rapine 
and  rage  within  the  folds  of  cultivated  society,  and 
giving  to  the  brutal  ferocity  of  the  most  ferocious 
its  full  scope  and  its  widest  range  of  devastation." 

It  requires  no  argument,  then,  to  prove  the  es 
sential  malevolence  of  war.  If  misery  is  its  very 
aim,  its  sole  element,  it  must  of  course  have  its  life 
and  being  in  malice.  It  is  a  system  of  hatred^ 
retaliation  and  vengeance.  These  are  its  chief  in 
gredients  ;  nor  is  it  possible,  except  by  some  special 
interposition  of  God,  as  in  the  case  of  his  ancient 
people,  for  war  to  exist  without  such  elements  as  the 
very  main-spring  of  its  movements.  The  Apostle, 
tinder  the  high  seal  of  God's  authority,  assures  us 
that  it  comes  from  the  bad  passions  of  men  ;  and  the 
custom  is  itself  the  great  channel  through  which  the 
foulest  and  fiercest  depravity, — panting  for  plunder, 
or  thirsting  for  blood,  has,  for  more  than  five  thousand 
years,  poured  the  burning  lava  of  its  wrath  over  the 


MORAL   ELEMENTS   OF   WAR.  113 

world.  You  cannot  eoncieve  a  worse  hell  upon 
earth  than  a  battle  field  ;  and  well  does  Franklin's 
fable  of  the  young  angel  illustrate  its  infernal  char 
acter  :  "  A  young  angel  of  distinction,"  he  says, 
u  being  sent  down  to  this  world  for  the  first  time 
on  some  important  business,  had  an  old  courier 
spirit  assigned  him  for  his  guide.  They  arrived 
over  the  sea  of  Martinique  in  the  midst  of  the  long 
and  obstinate  fight  between  .the  English  and  French 
fleets  under  Rodney  and  DeGrasse.  When  through 
the  clouds  of  smoke,  the  young  angel  saw  the  fire 
of  the  guns  ;  the  decks  covered  with  mangled  limbs, 
and  bodies  of  the  dead  and  dying ;  the  ships  sink 
ing,  burning,  or  blown  into  the  air  ;  and  the  quan 
tity  vof  pain,  misery  and  destruction,  which  the 
crews  yet  alive  were  so  eagerly  dealing  round  to 
one  another ;  he  turned  indignantly  to  his  guide, 
and  said, l  You  undertook  to  conduct  me  to  the 
earth  ;  but  you  have  brought  me  to  hell'  i  No,' 
replies  the  guide,  1 1  have  made  no  mistake  at  all  • 
this  is  really  earth,  and  these  are  men.  Devils 
never  treat  one  another  in  this  cruel  manner  ;  they 
have  more  sense,  and  more  of  what  men  vainly  call 
humanity.'" 

Retaliation  is  an  essential  principle  of  war.  Du 
ring  the  Carlist  war  in  Spain,  several  ofiicers  of  high 
rank  were  taken  prisoners ;  and  the  general  hu 
manely  dispatched  a  courier  to  propose  an  exchange 
of  them  for  some  officers  of  his  own  previously  taken. 
In  two  days  the  courier  returned,  and  found  the 
general  seated  with  his  prisoners  at  his  mess,  and 
treating  them  with  all  kindness  and  honor.  The 
letter  was  instantly  opened,  and  read  thus  :  "  The 
officers  you  require,  I  have  already  shot."  The 
general,  throwing  the  letter  to  his  guests,  said, 
"  Gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  it  is  so ;  but  there  is  no 
alternative.  Blood  for  blood  !  Send  for  the  con- 
ia* 


114  MORAL    ELEMENTS    OF    WAR. 

fessor ;  for  you  have  but  a  few  minutes  to  live.8 
They  were  dragged  from  the  table,  and  immediately 
shot  in  the  court-yard. 

Wilson,  in  one  of  his  Lay  Sermons,  gives  a  very 
just  epitome  of  this  custom.  "  The  history  of  every 
war,"  he  says,  "  is  very  like  a  scene  I  once  saw  in 
Nithsdale.  Two  boys  from  different  schools  met 
one  fine  day  upon  the  ice,  and  eyed  each  other 
awhile  with  rather  jealous,  indignant  looks,  and 
with  defiance  on  each  brow.  '  What  are  you  glow- 
rin'  at,  Billy?'  asked  Donald.  'What's  that  to 
you  ?J  retorted  Billy.  '  I'll  look  where  I  have  a 
mind ;  and  hinder  me,  if  you  daur.'  The  answer 
to  this  was  a  hearty  blow ;  arid  then  such  a  battle 
began !  It  being  Saturday,  all  the  boys  of  both 
schools  were  on  the  ice,  and  the  fight  instantly 
became  general  and  desperate.  At  one  time  they 
fought  with  missile  weapons,  such  as  stones  and 
snow-balls ;  but  at  length  they  met  and  coped  in  a 
rage,  and  many  bloody  raps  were  liberally  given  and 
received.  I  went  up  to  try  if  I  could  pacify  them  ; 
for  by  this  time  a  number  of  little  girls  Lad  joined 
the  affray,  and  I  was  afraid  they  would  be  killed. 
So,  addressing  one  of  the  parties,  I  asked,  '•  What 
are  you  pelting  the  others  for  1  What  have  they 
done  to  you?'  '0  naething  at  a','  they  replied, 
1  naething  at  a',  mon  ;  i  we  just  want  to  gie  t/iem  a 
good  thrashing}  And  at  it  they  went  again,  and 
continued  till  they  were  quite  exhausted,  when  one 
of  the  principal  heroes,  covered  with  blood,  and  his 
clothes  torn  to  tatters,  stepped  forth  between  the 
belligerent  parties,  and  addressed  them  thus :  i  Weel, 
I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do  wi'  ye — if  ye1  II  let  us  alane, 
we'll  let  you  alane}  There  was  no  more  of  it ;  the 
war  was  at  an  end,  and  the  boys  scattered  away  to 
their  play. 

"  That  trivial  affray  was  the  best  epitome  of  war 


MORAL   ELEMENTS    OF   WAR.  115 

in  general  that  I  have  ever  seen.  Kings  and  min 
isters  of  state  are  just  a  set  of  grown-up  children, 
exactly  like  the  children  I  speak  of,  with  only  this 
material  difference,  that,  instead  of  fighting  out  the 
needless  quarrels  they  have  raised,  they  sit  in  safety 
and  look  on,  hound  out  their  innocent  but  servile 
subjects  to  battle,  and  then,  after  a  fearful  waste  of 
blood  and  treasure,  are  glad  to  make  the  boy's  con 
ditions — if  ye!ll  let  us  alane,  well  let  you  alane" 

This  case  show,  also,  the  rise  of  malevolent  pas 
sions  in  war.  It  may  perhaps  begin  without  any 
considerable  degree  of  active  or  conscious  malice 
on  either  side  ;  but  it  soon  gangrenes  both  par 
ties  with  malignity,  and  makes  their  bosoms  boil  or 
seethe  with  hatred  and  revenge.  Jacob  Abbot,  in 
his  "  Corner  Stone,"  finely  illustrates  this  process. 
He  says,  men  here  are  ';  shocked  at  cock-fighting. 
Cruel,  unrelenting  wretches  prepare  their  victims 
for  the  contest  by  sawing  off  their  natural  spurs, 
and  fastening  deadlier  ones  of  steel  upon  the  bleed 
ing  trunks.  Then,  having  forced  the  innocent  ani 
mals  to  a  quarrel  by  thrusting  their  beaks  into  each 
others'  faces,  they  sit  around  to  enjoy  the  spectacle 
of  seeing  them  fight  till  one  is  killed.  The  commu 
nity  are  shocked  at  this,  but  look,  calm  and  unmov 
ed,  upon  precisely  the  same  experiment  when  tried 
with  men.  Military  leaders  bring  together  thou 
sands  of  men  who  have  no  quarrel  with  each  other, 
and  would  gladly  live  in  peace.  They  drive  them 
up  together,  front  to  front ;  and,  having  armed  them 
with  such  weapons  of  death  and  torture  as  nature 
never  furnished,  they  succeed,  half  by  compulsion, 
and  half  by  malicious  art,  in  getting  the  first  blow 
struck,  and  the  first  blood  flowing,  as  a  means  of 
bringing  the  angry  passions  into  play.  This  they 
call  getting  the  men  engaged !  There  is  no  dif 
ficulty  after  this.  The  work  goes  on  of  itself— a 


116  MORAL    ELEMENTS    OF   WAR. 

work  of  unutterable  horror.  The  blood,  the  agony, 
the  groans  which  follow,  are  nothing.  It  is  the 
raging  fires  of  hatred,  anger,  revenge,  and  furious 
passion,  which  nerve  every  arm,  and  boil  in  every 
heart,  and  with  which  thousands  upon  thousands 
pour  into  the  presence  of  their  Maker — these  con 
stitute  the  real  horrors  of  a  battle-field." 

Let  us,  also,  learn  the  spirit  of  war  from  its  own 
rules.  Suwarrow's  catechism,  a  series  of  directions 
by  that  great  general  to  his  soldiers,  says.  'l  Push 
hard  with  the  bayonet.  The  ball  will  lose  its  way ; 
the  bayonet  never.  The  ball  is  a  fool ;  the  bayonet 
a  hero.  Stab  once  ;  and  off  with  the  Turk  from 
the  bayonet.  Stab  the  second.  Stab  the  third. 
A  hero  will  stab  half  a  dozen.  If  three  attack  you, 
stab  the  first,  fire  on  the  second,  and  bayonet  the 
third."  Lord  Nelson,  the  military  idol  of  England, 
gave  to  his  midshipmen  the  following  directions, 
as  the  essence  of  their  duties :  "  There  are  three 
things  which  you  are  constantly  to  bear  in  mind — 
first,  you  must  always  implicitly  obey  orders  without 
attempting  to  form  any  opinion  of  your  own  re 
specting  their  propriety ;  secondly,  you  must  con 
sider  every  man  your  enemy  who  speaks  ill  of  your 
king ;  and,  thirdly,  you  must  hate  a  Frenchman  as 
you  do  the  devil.'" 

War,  indeed,  is  a  system  of  well-nigh  unrestrained, 
illimitable  wickedness.  It  tramples  under  foot  all 
laws,  human  and  divine.  It  knows  no  rule  save  the 
will  of  its  leaders,  or  the  impulse  of  its  own  wild, 
ferocious  passions.  It  is  the  perfection  of  moral 
anarchy,  such  as  makes  outlaws  on  earth,  and  fiends 
in  hell.  It  confounds  or  annihilates  nearly  all  mo 
ral  distinction.  It  dethrones  the  divinity  of  right, 
and  puts  in  its  place  the  war-demon  of  violence  and 
outrage,  lust  and  crime.  It  spurns  every  restraint, 
and  claims  to  do  just  what  it  pleases.  "  We'll  fight 


MOKAL    ELEMENTS    OF    WAR.  117 

now,  right  or  wrong,"  was  the  reckless,  savage  shout 
of  our  troops,  as  they  rushed  down  the  great  valley 
of  the  West  to  invade  Mexico,  and  revel  in  the 
halls  of  the  Montezumas.  Commodore  Decatur, 
long  ago,  gave  the  toast — "  Our  country !  may  she 
always  be  right ;  but,  right  or  wrong,  may  she  al 
ways  be  victorious  ;"  a  sentiment  which  has  since 
been  abbreviated  into  the  maxim — our  country,  right 
or  wrong !  The  rabble  have  translated  this  watch 
word  of  wholesale  crime  into  still  briefer  and  more 
vigorous,  as  well  as  more  vulgar  Saxon — GO  IT 
BLIND  !  4  When  your  country  is  at  war,  shut  your 
eyes  to  the  question  whether  she  is  right  or  wrong, 
help  her  to  fight  out  the  quarrel,  however  wicked, 
and  hold  yourself  ready  to  do  any  deeds  of  atrocity 
which  the  men  in  power,  though  ever  so  selfish,  un 
principled  and  reckless,  may  require  at  your  hands.' 
Is  it  possible  to  conceive,  on  earth  or  in  hell,  a  prin 
ciple  worse  than  this?  Yet  such  a  principle  is 
essential  to  war,  and  thus  brands  the  custom  as  a 
tissue  of  outrages  upon  the  first  principles  of  relig 
ion,  morality,  and  social  order. 

But  let  us  look  at  the  actual  spirit  of  war  as  seen 
in  its  agents.  Just  before  the  battle  of  Barossa,  in 
Spain,  Gren.  Graham,  riding  in  front  of  his  troops, 
and  waving  his  hat,  pointed  to  the  enemy,  and  ex 
claimed,  "  Now,  my  lads,  there  they  are  !  Spare  your 
powder,  but  give  them  steel  enough  !"  The  soldiers 
responded  in  three  cheers,  and  rushed  fiercely  to 
the  charge.  Pagans  are  not  wont  to  conceal  the 
real  malignity  of  war ;  and  hence  Scipio,  the  com 
mander  of  the  Roman  army  that  destroyed  Car 
thage,  prefaced  that  work  of  vengeance  with  this 
prayer :  "  0  dreadful  Pluto !  let  terror  and  ven 
geance  loose  against  the  Carthagenians  !  May  the 
cities  and  people  who  have  taken  up  arms  against 
us,  be  destroyed !  To  you3  0  ye  Furies,  I  devote 


118  MORAL    ELEMENTS    OF    WAR. 

all  the  enemies  of  my  republic."  Of  this  spirit,  the 
battle  of  Cannae  left  a  memorable  illustration.  At 
its  close,  a  Numidian,  still  alive,  was  found  lying 
upon  a  dead  Ptoman.  The  nose  and  ears  of  the 
former  were  miserably  torn  ;  for  the  Roman,  hav 
ing  his  hands  so  disabled  that  he  could  not  use  his 
arms,  had  risen  from  anger  to  fury,  and  expired  in 
the  very  act  of  tearing  his  enemy  with  his  teeth  ! 

Nor  is  modern  Christian  warfare  barren  of  ex 
amples  equally  horrid.  We  might  refer  to  the 
thousand  Arabs  all  burnt  to  death  in  a  cave  by  the 
French,  so  late  as  1845,  or  the  wanton,  cold-blooded 
butcheries  by  the  English  in  China,  Scinde,  and 
Afghanistan ;  but  take  one  or  two  cases  from  the 
French  under  Napoleon  in  Egypt.  Denon,  describ 
ing  the  attack  upon  Alexandria,  says :  "  We  were 
under  the  necessity  of  putting  to  death  all  the  men 
at  the  breach  ;  but  the  slaughter  did  not  end  there. 
The  inhabitants  fled  to  their  mosques  for  protection  ; 
and  there  men  and  women,  old  and  young,  and  in 
fants  at  the  breast,  were  slaughtered !  This  butch 
ery  continued  four  hours ;  and  yet  we  might  have 
spared  them,  by  only  summoning  the  town  ;  but  it 
was  necessary  to  begin  by  confounding  our  enemy  !" 
In  another  place  he  gives  a  vivid  account  of  their 
fighting  with  the  Mamelukes.  u  We  are  attacked," 
he  says,  "  in  a  mass  with  cries  of  rage.  The  cour 
age  is  equal  on  both  sides ;  they  are  animated  by 
hope,  we  by  indignation.  Those  who  are  dismount 
ed,  drag  themselves  under  our  bayonets,  cutting  at 
our  soldiers'  legs  with  their  sabres  ;  and  the  dying 
man  summons  his  last  effort  to  throttle  his  adver 
sary  !  One  of  our  men,  lying  on  the  ground,  had 
seized  an  expiring  Mameluke,  and  begun  to  strangle 
him,  when  an  officer  said  to  him,  '  How  can  you,  in 
your  condition,  do  such  an  act  T  <  Why,'  replied 
the  dying  man,  i  you  speak  much  at  your  ease — you 


MORAL   ELEMENTS   OF   WAR.  119 

who  are  unhurt ;  but  I,  who  have  not  long  to  live, 
must  have  some  enjoyment  while  I  may !'  " 

Let  us  come  to  our  own  country.  In  our  war 
with  Mexico,  Maj.  Ringgold,  when  mortally  wound 
ed,  spent  the  last  hours  of  his  life  in  telling  "  with 
much  pride  how  he  directed  his  cannon  not  only  to 
groups  and  masses  of  the  enemy,  but  to  particular 
men,  and  felt  as  confident  of  hitting  his  mark  as  if 
he  had  been  using  a  rifle."  He  only  regretted  that 
he  had  not  men  enough  to  kill  more  of  the  Mexi 
cans  !  Another  officer  (Page)  had  his  lower  jaw  so 
entirely  shot  away,  that  he  could  not  speak,  yet  ex 
ulted  over  the  success  of  our  troops  in  butchering 
the  enemy,  and  concluded  one  answer  to  the  inqui 
ries  of  his  friends  by  writing —  We  gave  the  Mexi 
cans  hell ! 

Well  might  old  Burton  ask,  "  Is  not  this  a  mad 
world  ?  Are  not  these  madmen,  who  leave  such 
memorials  of  their  madness  to  all  succeeding  gene 
rations  ?  What  fury  put  so  brutish  a  thing  as  war 
first  into  the  minds  of  men  ?  Why  should  crea 
tures,  born  to  exercise  mercy  and  meekness,  so  war 
and  rage  like  beasts  rushing  on  their  own  destruc 
tion  1  So  abominable  a  thing  is  war !" 

"  There  is  something,"  says  Cecil,  "  worse  than  the 
plunder  of  the  ruffian,  than  the  outrage  of  the  rav- 
isher,  than  the  stab  of  the  murderer.  These  are  com 
paratively  but  the  momentary  evils  of  war.  There 
is  also  a  shocking  moral  appendage  which  naturally 
grows  out  of  national  conflicts.  Instead  of  listening 
to  the  counsels  of  divine  mercy,  and  concurring  in 
the  design  of  a  kingdom  of  heaven  set  up  on  earth 
in  '  righteousness  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost,'  the  spirit  of  warlike  discord  tends  to  entomb 
every  such  idea.  It  tends  rather  to  set  up  some 
thing  like  a  kingdom  of  hell,  a  reign  of  violence, 
where  destruction  is  the  grand  enterprise ;  where 


120  CAUSES   OF   WAR. 

the  means  of  death  and  desolation  are  cultivated  as 
a  science  ;  where  invention  is  racked  to  produce 
ruin,  and  the  performance  of  it  is  ennobled  by  pub 
lic  applause.  Moloch  seems  once  more  enthroned ; 
while  ambition,  revenge  and  oppression,  erect  heir 
banners  amidst  groans  and  tears,  amidst  cities  de 
solated,  or  smoking  in  their  ashes." 

"  While  the  philanthropist,"  says  Robert  Hall, 
"is  devising  means  to  mitigate  the  evils,  and  augment 
the  happiness  of  the  world,  the  warrior  is  revolving 
in  the  gloomy  recesses  of  his  capacious  mind,  plans 
of  future  devastation  and  ruin.  Prisons  crowded 
with  captives,  cities  emptied  of  their  inhabitants, 
fields  desolate  and  waste,  are  among  his  proudest 
trophies.  The  fabric  of  his  fame  is  cemented  with 
tears  and  blood  ;  and,  if  his  name  is  wafted  to  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  it  is  in  the  shrill  cry  of  suffering 
humanity,  in  the  curses  and  imprecations  of  those 
whom  his  sword  has  reduced  to  despair." 


CHAPTER  II. 

CAUSES    OF   WAR. 

THE  moral  character  of  an  act  is  determined  by 
its  motives ;  and  Dr.  Knox  avers,  that  "  the  causes 
of  war  are,  for  the  most  part,  such  as  must  disgrace 
any  animal  pretending  to  rationality."  Pride  or 
ambition,  rapacity  or  revenge,  a  love  of  power,  or  a 
thirst  for  blood,  a  personal  pique,  or  the  merest 
whim,  a  question  of  prerogative,  or  strife  about  a 
title  or  a  boundary,  a  point  of  etiquette,  or  the  fig 
ment  of  national  honor,  the  assertion  of  unjust  or 


CAUSES    OF    WAR.  121 

doubtful  claims,  retaliation  for  real  or  imaginary 
wrongs — such  are  some  of  the  most  common  motives 
for  drawing  the  sword. 

"  War,"  it  has  been  said  with  graphic  truthful 
ness,  "  begins  very  like  the  quarrels  of  children.  I 
recollect  well  when  the  great  boys  used  to  set  the 
little  ones  to  fighting,  that  they  might  enjoy  the 
fun.  It  was  necessary  only  to  put  a  chip  on  one 
boy's  head,  and  dare  the  other  to  knock  it  off.  No 
sooner  said  than  off  goes  the  chip,  and  down  comes 
the  blow  ;  and  now  the  little  heroes  maul  each  other 
and  pull  hair,  to  the  great  delight  of  all  mischief- 
loving  spectators." 

This  story  is  almost  literally  applicable  to  the 
origin  of  some  wars.  Two  nations  of  Europe, 
France  and  England,  I  believe,  were  once  plunged 
into  a  long,  bloody  conflict,  by  a  childish  squabble 
between  two  boy -princes.  Near  the  time  of  the  set 
tlement  of  the  Pilgrims  in  New  England,  there 
arose  between  two  tribes  of  Indians  what  was  called 
"  The  Grasshopper  War."  An  Indian  woman,  with 
her  little  son,  went  to  visit  a  friend  in  a  neighbor 
ing  tribe.  The  little  fellow,  on  the  way,  caught  a 
grasshopper,  and  carried  it  in  his  hand  to  the  cabin 
of  her  friend,  whose  child,  of  nearly  the  same  age, 
wanted  the  grasshopper.  The  children,  unable  to 
agree  which  should  have  it,  got  into  a  quarrel.  The 
mothers  soon  became  parties  in  the  strife;  next 
came  the  husbands,  and  fought  each  for  his  own 
wife  and  child  ;  and  finally  warriors  of  both  tribes 
espoused  the  dispute,  and  plunged  into  a  war  that 
continued  until  one  tribe  was  entirely  destroyed, 
and  the  other  nearly  so. 

The  war  for  a  bucket  is  well  known.     In  the  year 

1005,  some  soldiers  of  Modena,  either  in  malice  or 

mere  sport,  ran  away  with  a  bucket  from  a  public 

well  in   Bologna.     It  might  have  been  worth  an 

11 


122  CAUSES   OF   WAR. 

English  shilling ;  but  it  occasioned  a  fierce,  pro 
tracted  war.  The  king  of  Sardinia  who  assisted  the 
Modencse  to  keep  the  bucket,  was  taken  prisoner, 
and  confined  for  twenty-two  years  in  prison,  where 
he  pined  away  and  died.  The  fatal  bucket,  care 
fully  inclosed  in  an  iron  cage,  is  said  to  be  still  ex 
hibited  in  the  tower  of  the  cathedral  at  Modena. 
So  much  for  a  bucket  worth  twenty-five  cents  ! 

The  real  causes  of  war  are  almost  invariably  tri 
vial  or  wicked.  "  A  hundred  thousand  mad  ani 
mals,  whose  heads  are  covered  with  hats,  advance," 
says  Voltaire,  '•  to  kill  or  be  killed  by  a  like  num 
ber  of  their  fellow  mortals  covered  with  turbans. 
By  this  strange  procedure,  they  want  at  best  to  de 
cide  whether  a  tract  of  land,  to  which  none  of  them 
have  any  claim,  shall  belong  to  a  certain  man  whom 
they  call  Sultan,  or  to  another  whom  they  call  Czar, 
neither  of  whom  ever  saw  or  will  see  the  spot  so  fu 
riously  contended  for,  and  very  few  of  these  crea 
tures  who  thus  butcher  each  other.  What  an  ex 
cess  of  madness  !" 

"  Sometimes,"  says  Dean  Swift,  "a  war  between 
two  princes  is  to  decide  which  of  them  shall  dispos 
sess  a  third  of  his  dominions,  whereto  neither  of 
them  pretends  to  have  any  right.  Sometimes  one 
prince  quarrelleth  with  another  for  fear  the  other 
should  quarrel  with  him.  Sometimes  a  war  is  en 
tered  upon  because  the  enemy  is  too  strong,  and 
sometimes  because  he  is  too  weak.  Sometimes  our 
neighbors  want  the  things  that  we  have,  or  have  the 
things  that  we  want ;  and  we  both  fight  till  they 
have  ours,  or  give  us  theirs.  It  is  justifiable  to 
enter  into  a  war  even  against  our  nearest  ally,  when 
one  of  his  towns  is  convenient  for  us,  or  a  part  of 
his  territory  would  render  our  dominions  round  and 
compact.  If  a  prince  sends  forces  into  a  nation, 


CAUSES    OF    WAR.  123 

where  the  people  are  poor  and  ignorant,  he  may  law 
fully  put  half  of  them  to  death,  and  make  slaves  of 
the  rest,  in  order  to  civilize  and  reduce  them  from 
their  barbarous  way  of  living." 

History  is  full  of  facts  on  this  point.  Pericles, 
to  gratify  the  spite  of  his  mistress  Aspasia,  instigat 
ed  the  Athenians  to  make  war  upon  Samos  ;  and, 
in  a  like  spirit  of  revenge,  she  brought  on  a  war 
with  Megara,  which  led  to  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
and  this  one  war  to  the  ultimate  subjugation  of  all 
Greece,  under  Philip  and  Alexander.  The  ten 
years1  war  of  the  Greeks  against  Troy,  which  cost 
some  two  million  lives,  was  all  for  a  worthless  cour 
tezan  ;  and  often  has  the  mistress  of  a  monarch,  or 
of  his  minister,  whelmed  nations  in  blood.  In  the 
reign  of  Edward  I.,  a  petty  strife  between  the  crews 
of  an  English  and  a  French  vessel  at  a  spring  near 
Bayonne,  to  determine  which  should  supply  them 
selves  with  water  first,  involved  the  two  countries  in 
a  war  that  destroyed  not  less  than  100,000  lives. 
The  war  of  1756,  which  cost  France  the  flower  of 
her  youth,  and  more  than  half  of  her  current  mo 
ney,  besides  the  loss  of  her  navy,  her  commerce  and 
her  credit,  originated  in  the  desire  of  a  few  ambi 
tious  persons  to  render  themselves  necessary  and 
important. 

The  Peace  Society  of  Mass.,  about  1825,  instituted 
an  inquiry  into  the  actual  causes  of  war ;  and,  be 
sides  a  multitude  of  petty  ancient  wars,  and  of  those 
waged  by  Christian  nations  with  tribes  of  savages, 
ascertained  286  wars  of  magnitude  to  have  had  the 
following  origin  : — 22  for  plunder  or  tribute ;  44  for 
the  extension  of  territory ;  24  for  retaliation  or  re 
venge  ;  6  about  disputed  boundaries ;  8  respecting 
points  of  honor  or  prerogative  ;  5  for  the  protection 
or  extension  of  commerce  ;  55  civil  wars  ;  41  about 


124  THE    VICES    AND    CRIMES    OF    WAR. 

contested  titles  to  crowns  ;  30  under  pretence  of  as 
sisting  allies  ;  23  from  mere  jealousy  of  rival  great 
ness  ;  28  religious  wars,  including  the  crusades  ; — 
not  one  for  defence  alone, ! 


CHAPTEK   III. 


THE    VICES    AND    CRIMES    OF    WAR. 

WAR  is  the  parent  of  all  manner  of  wickedness. 
It  is  a  school  of  error,  and  a  vast  hot-bed  of  iniqui 
ties.  It  panders  to  the  lowest  vices,  instigates  to 
the  foulest  crimes,  and  throws  a  loose  rein  upon  the 
basest  and  fiercest  passions  of  our  nature.  A  war 
rior  himself  says,  u  the  moment  a  recruit  is  enlist 
ed,  and  gets  a  forage  cap  on  his  head,  and  a  stick  in 
his  hand,  he  considers  himself,  whatever  may  have 
been  his  previous  character,  licensed  to  drink,  and 
curse,  and  swear,  and  associate  with  women  of  the 
town."  Napoleon  used  to  say,  "the  readiest  way 
to  govern  soldiers  is  by  their  vices  ;  and  when  they 
have  iione,  they  must  be  taught  to  contract  them." 

Machiavel  says,  "  War  is  a  profession  by  which 
men  cannot  live  honorably  at  all  times ;  and  the 
soldier,  if  he  would  reap  any  profit,  is  obliged  to  be 
false,  and  rapacious,  and  cruel.  No  man,  who 
makes  war  his  profession,  can  be  otherwise  than  vi 
cious.'''1  Voltaire  thus  sums  up  the  moral  results  of 
war :  "Put  together  all  the  vices  of  all  ages  and 
places,  and  never  will  they  come  up  to  the  mischiefs 
and  enormities  of  a  single  campaign." 

Erasmus  puts  this  aspect  of  war  in  its  true  light. 
"  Do  you  detest  robbery  and  pillage  ?  These  are 


THE    VICES   AND   CRIMES    OF    WAR.  125 

among  the  duties  of  war.  Do  you  shudder  at  the 
idea  of  murder  ?  To  commit  it  with  dispatch,  and 
by  wholesale,  constitutes  the  celebrated  art  of  war. 
Do  you  regard  debauchery,  rapes,  incest,  and  crimes 
of  a  dye  still  deeper  than  these,  as  foul  disgraces  to 
human  nature  ?  Depend  upon  it,  war  leads  to  them 
all  in  their  most  aggravated  atrocity.  Is  impiety, 
or  a  total  neglect  of  religion,  the  true  source  of  all 
villainy  ?  Religion  is  always  overwhelmed  in  the 
storms  of  war." 

Warriors  themselves,  or  their  eulogists,  occasion 
ally  admit  these  vicious  tendencies  of  their  profes 
sion.  Doddridge,  in  his  Life  of  Col.  Gardiner,  says, 
"  The  generality  of  our  youth  are  debased,  enervated 
and  undone  by  the  bad  influences  of  the  camp  ;  and 
so  many  are  the  temptations,  and  so  great  the  pre 
valence  of  vicious  characters,  that  it  may  seem  no 
inconsiderable  praise  and  felicity  for  one  to  be  free 
from  dissolute  vice."  Gardiner  himself  was,  before 
his  conversion,  a  mass  of  reeking  corruption,  one  of 
the  vilest  libertines  that  ever  rioted  in  debauchery. 
One  day  Frederick  the  Great  at  his  table  jestingly 
said,  that  his  light  troops  had  been  commanded  only 
by  robbers  ;  and  added  with  a  laugh,  and  a  roguish 
eye  upon  the  colonel  who  commanded  those  troops, 
"  Col.  Guichard  had  all  the  difficulty  in  the  world, 
after  the  war,  to  lose  the  habit  of  plundering ;  and 
now,  when  he  is  near  me,  I  have  special  care  of  my 
snuif-box  and  purse,  lest  he  should  play  off  against 
me  some  slight-of-hand  trick."  The  colonel,  not 
relishing  this  pleasantry  at  all,  tartly  replied, 
"  True,  sire,  I  have  pillaged  and  robbed  ;  but  it  was 
by  your  majesty's  orders,  and  you  always  had  the 
best  share  of  the  booty." 

Our  war  with  Mexico  furnishes  instances  enough 
of  the  immoralities  inseparable  from  this  custom. 
a  Pity,"  said  one  of  its  officers,  "  we  are  not  engaged 
11* 


126  THE    VICES    AND    CRIMES    OF    WAR. 

in  actual  fight  for  the  sake  of  the  reckless  gamesters 
who  night  and  day  are  throwing  away  their  scanty 
pay  in  the  inhuman  recreation  of  gambling.  If  you 
would  witness  wickedness  and  vice,  drunkenness, 
and  all  the  vicious  propensities  of  the  human  heart 
in  their  most  odious  colors,  the  American  camp,  I 
grieve  to  say,  is  the  place  where  you  may  behold 
them.  This  campaign  is  a  grand  school  of  iniquity 
and  vice." 

Mark  the  natural,  inevitable  growth  of  crime 
under  the  high  example  of  government  in  war.  A 
man  who  robs  and  kills  for  the  state,  may  in  time 
take  it  into  his  head  to  do  so  for  himself ;  nor  can 
we  expect  the  great  body  of  soldiers  to  make  much, 
if  any  distinction,  in  point  of  moral  turpitude, 
between  the  same  deeds  in  the  two  cases.  One  of 
Wellington's  soldiers,  an  Irish  private,  once  at 
tempted  to  shoot  and  rob  a  French  peasant,  and 
was  sentenced  to  be  hung  for  it.  Just  before  he 
swung  from  the  gallows,  he  cried  out  in  the  follow 
ing  imprecation  upon  his  commander :  u  Bad  luck 
to  the  Duke  !  He's  no  Irishman's  friend,  any  way. 
"Why,  I've  killed  many  a  score  of  Frenchmen  by 
his  orders  ;  and  now,  when  I  just  took  it  into  my 
head  to  kill  a  single  one  on  my  own  account,  by  the 
powers  !  he  has  tucked  me  up  for  it !" 

An  English  warrior,  after  describing  the  recap 
ture  of  Spanish  towns,  adds :  '•  Then  did  British 
soldiers,  who  had  crossed  the  seas  to  rescue  Span 
iards  from  French  thraldom,  rush  upon  the  city, 
and  slaughter,  and  pillage,  and  violate  every  house. 
There  was  no  order,  no  restraint ;  officers  were 
shot  in  the  streets  by  drunken  soldiers  ;  old  men 
and  children  they  slaughtered  promiscuously  :  there 
was  scarce  a  woman  whose  person  they  did  not 
violate  ;  whole  families  were  burnt  up  in  their  own 
houses  ;  and  thus  reigned  horror  and  dreadful  car 


THE   VICES  AND   CRIMES    OF    WAR.  127 

nage  for  several  days  in  succession.  The  after- 
scene  was  indeed  'hell  broke  loose.'  We  cannot 
read  it  without  a  shudder ;  and  yet  no  effort  was 
made  to  restrain  the  fierce  and  brutal  licentious 
ness  of  the  soldiers." 

Take  a  case  from  the  French  in  the  same  coun 
try.  Ucles,  a  decayed  town,  was  taken  by  them  in 
1809.  Plunder  was  their  first  object ;  and,  in 
order  to  make  the  people  disclose  where  their 
valuables  were  secreted,  they  put  them  to  the  tor 
ture.  Having  obtained  all  the  portable  wealth  of 
the  place,  they  yoked  the  inhabitants  like  beasts, 
especially  the  clergy,  loaded  them  with  their  own 
furniture,  and  made  them  carry  it  to  the  castle-hill, 
and  pile  it  in  heaps,  where  they  set  fire  to  it,  and 
consumed  the  whole.  They  then  proceeded,  in 
mere  wantonness,  to  murder  about  threescore  per 
sons,  dragging  them  to  the  shambles,  that  this 
butchery  might  be  committed  in  its  proper  place. 
Among  these  sufferers  were  several  women ;  and 
they  might  be  regarded  as  happy  in  being  deliv 
ered  from  the  worse  horrors  that  ensued  ;  for  the 
French  laid  hands  on  all  the  surviving  women  of 
the  place  for  the  gratification  of  their  brutal  lusts. 
They  tore  the  nun  from  the  altar,  the  widow  from 
her  husband's  corpse,  the  virgin  from  her  mother's 
arms  ;  and  these  victims  of  the  foulest  brutality 
they  abused  till  many  of  them  actually  expired  on 
the  spot !  Nor  was  even  this  all ;  but  the  further 
abominations,  perpetrated  without  restraint  by 
those  monsters  in  the  open  day,  could  not,  the 
historian  assures  us.  even  be  hinted  at  without 
violating  the  decencies  of  language,  and  the  rever 
ence  due  to  humanity. 

The  licentiousness  of  war  is  proverbial.  It  must, 
from  the  nature  of  the  case,  reek  with  this  species 
of  vice,  the  prolific  parent  of  all  others.  Mar- 


128  THE    VICES    AND    CRIMES    OF    WAR. 

riage  is  virtually  forbidden,  to  nearly  all  its  agents ; 
and  wherever  troops  are  quartered,  or  a  war-ship 
moored,  or  even  single  officers  found  for  any  length 
of  time,  there  is  woman  too  surely  tempted  to  her 
ruin.  "  On  a  ship  coming  into  port,"  says  an  Eng 
lish  naval  officer,  "  large  numbers  of  prostitutes  are 
allowed  to  come  and  live  on  board,  or  come  off  in 
the  evening,  and  are  sent  ashore  in  the  morning." 
An  officer  of  our  own  says  of  his  ship  while  in  Port 
Mahon,  "  I  have  seen  five  hundred  of  these  lost,  de 
graded  creatures,  on  board  at  a  time  ;  all  the  decks 
full  of  them  ;  between  the  guns,  and  in  every  di 
rection,  were  they  to  be  seen  with  the  seamen." 

"  When  the  impressed  seaman  returns  from  a 
long  cruise,"  says  Ladd,  "  to  what  horrid  tempta 
tions  to  licentiousness  is  he  exposed  !  I  have  vis 
ited  the  fleets  and  dock-yards  atGosport  and  Ports 
mouth,  and  I  have  lived  five  years  in  the  midst  of 
slavery  ;  and  I  may  safely  say,  that  I  have  seen 
more  of  lasciviousness,  more  degradation  of  the  fe 
male  sex,  in  one  day  in  England,  than  I  have  seen 
in  my  whole  life-time  in  America.  -  On  board  some* 
of  the  ships  of  war  there  were  nearly  as  many  wo 
men  as  men,  and  on  shore  crowds  of  drunken,  prof 
ligate  females  !  It  seemed  to  me  I  had  got  into  the 
midst  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah." 

Let  us  hear  a  few  facts  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Smith, 
once  a  seaman  himself,  but  at  the  time  a  missionary 
to  his  brethren  of  the  sea.  Having  gone  on  board 
a  man-of-war,  in  a  British  port,  to  distribute  tracts, 
and  converse  on  religion  with  the  sailors,  he  was 
"  rudely  ordered  off  by  the  commander  with  the  as 
surance,  '  You  have  no  right  down  below  in  my  ship.* 
1  Why,  sir,  I  found  many  of  the  vilest,  unmarried 
females  below,  teaching  the  men  all  sorts  of  ob 
scenity  and  abomination.  Surely,  if  these  are  al 
lowed  to  crowd  the  ship,  a  minister  of  the  gospel 


THE    VICES    AND    CRIMES    OF    WAR.  129 

might  be  permitted  also.'  '  No,  sir,  they  come  to 
the  men  by  my  sanction  ;  you  do  not.'  <  I  am  truly 
sorry  for  it ;  for  they  will  corrupt  and  ruin  the 
whole  ship's  company.'  i  Don't  you  mind  that,  sir  ; 
mind  your  own  business.'  "  I  visited,  also,  the 
Albion,  74,  just  from  Navarino  ;  and  the  scenes  of 
debauchery,  and  the  language  of  obscenity  and 
blasphemy  on  board,  were  most  shocking.  I  stood 
upon  the  quarter-deck  of  the  Genoa,  74,  and  beheld 
the  sailors  handing  on  board  the  vilest  and  most 
reprobate  women,  with  the  permission  and  sanction 
of  the  officers.  I  walked  round  the  decks  of  the 
Asia,  84,  and  beheld  abominations  my  pen  dares 
not  describe.  I  could  have  entered  into  contract 
with  the  seamen,  on  their  arrival  in  port,  to  supply 
them  with  three  or  four  hundred  of  the  most  blas 
phemous,  abandoned  and  obscene  characters,  that 
they  might  break  God's  holy  law,  insult  his  sacred 
majesty,  and  ruin  their  bodies  and  souls  to  all  eter 
nity — all  this  I  could  have  done  with  free  permission 
from  all  the  officers  ;  but  to  send  a  person  on  board 
with  the  same  number  of  religious  tracts  for  the 
sailors,  would  have  been  the  highest  insult  to  hu 
man  authority,  and  the  most  dangerous  experiment 
to  myself." 

Take  from  our  own  country  another  illustration  of 
the  licentiousness  inseparable  from  the  war-system 
even  in  peace  :  u  After  the  old  French  war,"  says 
Ladd,  who  got  the  facts  from  a  relative  of  the  vic 
tim,  "  an  English  regiment  came  to  Albany.  The 
flash  and  finery  of  the  officers  quite  turned  the 
heads  of  the  young ;  and,  ingratiating  themselves 
by  degrees,  they  corrupted  at  length  the  morals 
of  both  sexes  by  balls  and  dances,  masquerades, 
temporary  theatres,  and  other  arts  of  seduction. 
The  good  old  minister  (Frelinghuysen,)  early  took 
the  alarm,  and  preached  boldly  against  these 


130  THE    VICES    AND    CRIMES    OF    WAR. 

demoralizing  innovations ;  but,  though  sustained 
by  the  aged  and  wise,  the  influence  of  the  army, 
rallying  the  young  on  their  side,  prevailed,  and 
drove  the  preacher  from  his  pulpit,  from  the  city, 
and  even  the  country.  They  silenced  his  voice, 
but  could  not  falsify  his  predictions,  which  soon 
began  to  be  visibly  fulfilled.  More  than  a  dozen 
of  the  most  ancient  and  respectable  families  were 
disgraced,  and  a  multitude  of  the  common  people. 

"  The  fall  of  one  female  was  too  deplorable  to  be 
soon  forgotten.  She  was  the  favorite  grand-daugh 
ter  of  an  ancient,  superannuated  domine  of  great 
respectability  and  wealth,  by  the  name  of  Lydius. 
at  whose  house  Col.  Schuyler,  commander  of  the 
regiment,  was  billeted.  In  vain  did  the  wife  of 
Col.  Schuyler  warn  the  young  lady  of  her  danger. 
She  fell  a  victim  to  seduction.  The  poor  old 
grand-father  offered  her  seducer,  a  Capt.  Rogers,  all 
his  property,  if  he  would  marry  his  grand-daughter, 
and  thus  remove  the  disgrace  from  his  family.  He 
offered  in  vain  ;  perhaps  the  villain  was  already 
married.  Proud  and  high-spirited,  of  great  preten 
sions  from  her  birth  and  fortune,  the  disgrace 
bereft  the  young  lady  of  her  reason  ;  and  for  thirty 
years  after  the  birth  of  her  child,  did  the  maniac 
mother  constantly  sit  at  the  garret  window  of  the 
house  in  which  she  was  born,  anxiously  looking 
down  the  river  for  the  return  of  her  seducer,  who 
had  told  her  he  was  going  to  Ireland,  his  native 
country,  and  would  soon  return  and  marry  her. 
She  believed  it  all ;  and,  when  the  south  wind 
blew,  the  poor  lunatic  was  in  ecstacies,  expecting 
every  moment  to  see  him  coming  up  to  fulfil  his 
promise  ;  arid  then  she  would  clap  her  hands  in  a 
rapture  of  delight,  and  tears  of  joy  would  flow 
down  her  cheeks.  Her  deceiver  never  came  ;  in- 


THE    VICES    AND    CRIMES    OF    WAR.  131 

Btead  of  going  to  Ireland,  he  merely  got  transferred 
to  a  regiment  in  Quebec. 

"  When  the  brother  of  his  victim  learned  the 
truth  of  the  case,  he  publicly  vowed  revenge,  and 
followed  him  to  Quebec  ;  but  a  friend  of  Rogers, 
hastening  to  inform  him  of  his  danger,  arrived 
three  days  before  the  avenger,  and  thus  gave  the 
villain  time  to  apply  for  a  furlough.  The  cause  of 
it  got  wind,  and  drew  so  many  gibes  and  jeers  from 
his  brother  officers,  that  he  challenged  them  all, 
and  wounded  three  of  them  in  duels  ;  but  the  sedu 
cer,  however  brave,  dared  not  meet  the  exasperated 
brother  of  his  victim,  and  embarked  the  very  day 
on  which  Lydius  arrived.  The  latter  had  not  the 
means  of  following  him  ;  but  he  vowed,  if  ever  he 
set  foot  on  this  continent  again,  he  would  be  the 
death  of  the  gold-laced  villain.  He  never  came  ; 
but  the  influence  of  that  regiment  on  the  morals  of 
Albany  has  not  to  this  day  been  entirely  effaced." 

We  can  hardly  believe  how  many  victims  of  lust 
strew  the  pathway  of  war.  No  less  than  forty 
thousand  women  of  ill  fame  were  said  to  have 
accompanied  Napoleon's  grand  army  into  Hussia, 
in  1812  ;  and  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  a 
solitary  one  ever  returned  to  France  !  "  Most  of 
them,"  says  Labaume,  "  being  on  foot,  with  shoes  of 
stuff  little  fitted  to  defend  them  from  the  frozen 
snow,  and  clad  in  robes  of  silk  or  the  thinnest  mus 
lin,  were  glad  to  cover  themselves  with  tattered 
pieces  of  military  cloaks  torn  from  the  bodies  of 
dead  soldiers.  But  of  all  these  victims,  none  ex 
cited  a  warmer  pity  than  the  young  and  interesting 
Fanny.  Beautiful  and  affectionate,  amiable  and 
sprightly,  speaking  many  different  languages,  and 
possessing  every  quality  calculated  to  win  the  most 
insensible  heart,  she  now  begged  for  the  most 
menial  employment ;  and  the  morsel  of  bread  she 


132  THE   VICES   AND   CRIMES    OF   WAR. 

obtained,  drew  from  her  the  strongest  expressions 
of  gratitude.  Imploring  succor  from  us  all,  she 
was  compelled  to  submit  to  the  vilest  abuse  ;  and, 
though  her  soul  loathed  the  prostitution,  she  be- 
longed  every  night  to  him  who  would  charge  him 
self  with  her  support.  I  saw  her  when  we  quitted 
Smolensko.  She  was  no  longer  able  to  walk.  She 
was  clinging  to  the  tail  of  a  horse,  and  was  thus 
dragged  along  !  At  length  her  powers  were  quite 
exhausted  ;  she  fell  on  the  snow,  and  there  remained 
unburied,  without  exciting  one  emotion  of  pity,  or 
obtaining  one  look  of  compassion  !  !" 

What  a  scene  of  mingled  rapine,  lust  and  ven 
geance,  must  a  captured  city  be!  "When  the 
generals  were  ordered  to  leave  Moscow,"  says  La- 
baume,  "  the  soldiers,  no  longer  restrained  by  that 
awe  which  is  always  inspired  by  the  presence  of 
their  chiefs,  gave  themselves  up  to  every  excess, 
and  to  the  most  unbridled  licentiousness.  No 
retreat  was  safe,  no  place  sufficiently  sacred  to 
secure  it  from  their  rapacious  search.  To  all  the 
excesses  of  lust,  were  added  the  highest  depravity 
and  debauchery.  No  respect  was  paid  to  the 
nobility  of  blood,  the  innocence  of  youth,  or  the  tears 
of  beauty." 

"  The  French  troops,  as  they  poured  into  the 
devoted  city,"  says  Porter,  "  had  spread  themselves 
in  every  direction  in  search  of  plunder ;  and  in 
their  progress  they  committed  outrages  so  horrid 
on  the  persons  of  all  whom  they  discovered,  that 
fathers,  desperate  to  save  their  children  from  pollu 
tion,  would  set  fire  to  their  places  of  refuge,  and 
find  a  surer  asylum  in  the  flames.  The  streets, 
the  houses,  the  cellars,  flowed  with  blood,  and  were 
filled  with  violation  and  carnage." 

But  we  need  not  continue  these  illustrations  of 
war.  All  history  proves  it  to  be  a  gigantic  imper 


THE   VICES   AND    CRIMES    OF   WAR.  183 

sonation  of  all  wickedness.  It  is  steeped  in  pollu 
tion  ;  it  reeks  with  every  form  of  vice  ;  it  riots  and 
revels  in  the  foulest  crimes  as  its  very  element ;  it 
is  a  mass  of  the  vilest  and  most  horrible  abomina 
tions.  It  cannot  be  otherwise  ;  for  its  spirit  is  the 
essence  of  malignity,  and  its  tactics  the  science  of 
crime.  It  teaches  crime ;  it  compels  crime ;  it 
rewards  crime  with  pay,  and  titles,  and  monuments. 
Too  truly  does  Charming  say,  "  war  is  the  concen 
tration  of  all  human  crimes.  Under  its  standard 
gather  violence,  malignity,  rage,  fraud,  perfidy, 
rapacity  and  lust.  It  is  a  theatre  got  up,  at  im 
mense  expense,  for  the  exhibition  of  crime  on  a 
grand  scale.  A  more  fearful  hell  than  the  field  of 
battle,  cannot  well  be  conceived  in  any  region  of 
the  universe.  There  the  fiends  hold  their  revels, 
and  spread  their  fury."  Well  does  Lord  Brougham 
exclaim,  "  I  hold  war  to  be  the  greatest  of  human 
crimes.  I  deem  it  to  include  all  others — violence, 
blood,  rapine,  fraud,  everything  which  can  deform 
the  character,  alter  the  nature,  and  debase  the 
name  of  man." 


134  WAR   IN    THE   LIGHT   OF   NATURE. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE    LIGHT    OF    NATURE, 

WE  are  not  left  to  unaided  reason  alone  for  the 
discovery  of  our  duties ;  and  yet  nature  does  shed 
some  light  upon  the  subject  now  under  considera 
tion.  On  consulting  her  oracles,  we  hear  no  respone 
against  the  right  of  violent  self-defence  in  cases 
where  we  must  either  kill  or  be  killed  ;  but  she  does 
give  forth  strong,  unequivocal  utterances  against  the 
general  practice  of  war.  It  receives  countenance 
only  from  her  depravity  and  perversion.  Not  one 
of  her  principles,  instincts  or  interests,  will  justify 
such  a  system  of  violence,  outrage  and  revenge  ;  but 
on  her  heart  are  engraven,  and  all  over  her  brow 
are  written,  those  laws  of  love  and  sympathy,  of 
mutual  dependence  and  universal  brotherhood, 
which  forbid  this  whole  custom,  and  prove  it  con 
trary  to  the  original  intentions  of  nature,  and  to  the 
benevolent  purposes  of  nature's  God. 

Self-defence  is  another  thing,  quite  as  distinct 
from  the  custom  of  war  as  it  is  from  that  of  duel 
ling.  "  When  two  nations,  after  mutual  prepara 
tions,  continued  perhaps  through  many  years,  ap 
peal,"  says  Sumner,  u  to  war,  and  invoke  the  God 
of  battles,  they  voluntarily  adopt  this  unchristian 
umpirage  of  right ;  nor  can  either  side  strongly 
plead  the  overruling  necessity  on  which  alone  the 
right  of  self-defence  is  founded.  Self-defence  is 
independent  of  law ;  it  knows  no  law ;  it  springs 
from  the  tempestuous  urgency  of  the  moment,  which 
brooks  neither  circumscription  nor  delay.  Define 


WAR    IN   THE    LIGHT   OF   NATURE.  135 

it,  give  it  laws,  circumscribe  it  by  a  code,  invest  it 
with  form,  refine  it  by  punctilio,  and  it  becomes  the 
duel ;  and  modern  war,  with  its  innumerable  rules 
and  regulations,  its  limitations  and  refinements,  is 
the  duel  of  nations."  No  man  pleads  the  right  of 
self-defence  in  justification  of  duelling  ;  and  yet 
most  truly  does  Dr.  Johnson  say,  u  If  public  war  be 
allowed  to  be  consistent  with  morality,  private  war 
must  be  equally  so  •  and,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  ex 
ceedingly  clear,  that  duelling,  having  better  reasons 
for  its  barbarous  violence,  is  more  justifiable  than 
war,  in  which  thousands,  without  any  cause  of  per 
sonal  quarrel,  go  forth  and  massacre  each  other." 

Erasmus  represents  Peace  as  expostulating  with 
mankind  against  war  as  unnatural.  "  It  is  a  cir 
cumstance  equally  shameful  and  marvellous,  that, 
though  nature  has  formed  one  animal,  one  alone, 
capable  of  sentimental  affection  and  social  union, 
with  powers  of  reason,  and  a  mind  participating  of 
divinity,  yet  Peace  can  find  admission  among  the 
wildest  of  wild  beasts,  and  the  most  brutal  of  brutes, 
sooner  than  with  this  one  animal — the  rational,  im 
mortal  animal  called  man.  There  is  nothing  more 
unnaturally  wicked,  more  productive  of  misery,  more 
extensively  destructive,  more  obstinate  in  mischief, 
more  unworthy  of  man  as  formed  by  nature,  much 
more  of  man  professing  Christianity, 

"  If  any  one  considers  for  a  moment  the  organiza 
tion  and  external  figure  of  the  body,  will  he  not 
instantly  perceive  that  nature,  or  rather  the  God 
of  nature,  created  the  human  animal  not  for  war, 
but  for  love  and  friendship  ;  not  for  mutual  destruc 
tion,  but  for  mutual  service  and  safety  ;  not  to  com 
mit  injuries  upon  one  another,  but  to  perform  acts 
of  reciprocal  beneficence  ?  Man  she  brought  into 
the  world  naked,  weak,  tender,  unarmed,  his  flesh 
of  the  softest  texture,  his  skin  smooth  and  delicate, 


136  WAR   IN    THE    LIGHT   OF   NATURE. 

and  susceptible  of  the  slightest  injury.  There  is 
nothing  observable  in  his  limbs  adapted  to  fighting 
or  violence.  Unable  either  to  speak,  or  walk,  or 
help  himself  to  food,  he  can  implore  relief  only  by 
tears  and  wailing ;  so  that  from  this  circumstance 
alone  might  be  collected,  that  man  is  an  animal 
born  for  that  friendship  which  is  formed  and  ce 
mented  by  the  mutual  interchange  of  benevolent 
offices. 

"  Moreover,  nature  evidently  intended  that  man 
should  consider  himself  indebted  for  the  boon  of 
life,  not  so  much  to  himself,  as  to  the  kindness  of 
his  fellow-man,  and  thus  might  perceive  himself 
designed  for  social  affections,  and  the  attachment 
of  friendship  and  love.  Then  she  gave  him  a  coun 
tenance  not  frightful  and  forbidding,  but  mild  and 
placid,  imitating  by  external  signs  the  benignity  of 
his  disposition.  She  gave  him  eyes  full  of  affec 
tionate  expression,  the  indices  of  a  mind  delighting 
in  social  sympathy.  She  gave  him  arms  to  embrace 
his  fellow-creatures.  She  gave  him  lips  to  express 
a  union  of  heart  and  soul.  To  him  alone  she  gave 
the  power  of  laughing,  a  mark  of  the  joy  of  which 
he  is  susceptible.  She  gave  him  tears,  the  symbol 
of  clemency  and  compassion.  She  gave  him,  for 
the  utterance  of  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  not  a 
menacing  and  frightful  yell,  but  a  voice  bland, 
soothing  and  friendly.  Not  satisfied  with  all  these 
marks  of  her  peculiar  favor,  she  bestowed  on  man 
alone  the  use  of  speech  and  reason  ;  a  gift  which 
tends,  more  than  any  other,  to  conciliate  and  cher 
ish  benevolence,  and  a  desire  of  rendering  mutual 
services.  She  implanted  in  him  a  hatred  of  soli 
tude,  and  a  love  of  company.  She  sowed  in  his 
heart  the  seeds  of  every  benevolent  affection,  and 
thus  rendered  what  is  most  salutary  at  the  same 
time  most  agreeable.  Lastly,  to  man  is  given  that 


WAR   IN   THE    LIGHT   OF   NATURE.  137 

spark  of  the  divine  mind  which  stimulates  hinij  of 
his  own  free  will,  to  do  good  to  all. 

"  In  contrast  with  all  this,  view  in  imagination  sav 
age  troops  of  men,  horrible  in  their  very  visages  and 
voices  ;  men  clad  in  steel,  drawn  up  in  battle  array, 
and  armed  with  weapons  that  are  frightful  in  their 
crash  and  very  glitter  ;  mark  the  horrid  murmur  of 
the  confused  multitude,  their  threatening  eyeballs, 
the  harsh,  jarring  din  of  drums  and  clarions,  the 
terrific  sound  of  the  trumpet,  the  thunder  of  the 
cannon  ;  a  mad  shout  like  the  shrieks  of  bedlamites  ; 
a  furious  onset,  a  cruel  butchery  of  each  other  !  See 
the  slaughtered  and  the  slaughtering,  heaps  of  dead 
bodies,  fields  flowing  with  blood,  rivers  reddened 
with  human  gore !  Sometimes  a  brother  falls  by 
the  hand  of  a  brother,  a  kinsman  upon  his  nearest 
kindred,  a  friend  upon  his  friend,  both  actuated  by 
the  same  fit  of  insanity,  and  each  plunging  his  sword 
into  the  heart  of  one  who  never  offended  him  even 
by  a  word !" 

Such  is  war.  And  is  this  bantling  of  blood  one 
of  nature's  legitimate  offspring?  Does  it  spring 
from  any  of  her  unperverted  laws  or  instincts? 
Does  she  require,  or  prompt,  or  sanction  such  a 
custom '?  Is  it  a  fulfilment  of  her  wise  and  merci 
ful  provisions  for  the  common  happiness  of  her 
children?  Is  there  the  slightest  proof,  that  man 
kind  were  made  for  such  mutual  hatred  and  butch 
ery  ?  Did  the  Almighty  create  this  fair  and  smiling 
earth  to  be  the  slaughter-yard  of  beings  formed  in 
his  own  image  for  immortality  and  heaven  ?  The 
very  thought  is  a  libel  on  nature  and  nature's  God. 
12* 


138  WAR   VIEWED   IN   THE 


CHAPTER  V. 

WAR   VIEWED   IN   THE    LIGHT   OF   REVELATION. 
SECTION  I. 

GENERAL  CONTRARIETY  OF  WAR  TO  REVEALED  RELIGION. 

WE  may  safely  presume  warriors  to  understand 
the  nature  and  principles  of  their  own  profession. 
Napoleon,  in  a  temporary  fit  of  candor,  denounced 
war  as  "the  trade  of  barbarians,"  and  he  excluded 
priests  from  his  armies,  because  he  held  the  maxim, 
the  ivorse  the  man,  the  better  the  soldier.  Wellington 
himself  once  declared  in  the  House  of  Lords,  that 
men  who  have  nice  notions  about  religion,  have  no  busi 
ness  to  be  soldiers.  Two  British  officers  were  once 
cashiered  for  refusing,  on  a  foreign  station,  to  join  in 
what  they  conscientiously  deemed  idolatrous  wor 
ship  ;  and  the  king,  in  confirming  that  sentence,  said. 
u  If  religious  principles  were  allowed  to  be  urged  by 
individual  officers  as  a  plea  for  disobedience  of  or 
ders,  the  discipline  of  the  army  would  sustain  an 
injury  which  might  be  dangerous  to  the  state." 

Well,  then,  does  the  venerable  missionary  Ward 
say,  "  Either  our  religion  is  a  fable,  or  there  are 
unanswerable  arguments  against  war,  and  the  pro 
fession  of  arms.13  With  equal  truth  does  Jeremy 
Taylor  aver,  "  If  men  would  obey  Christ's  doctrine, 
they  would  never  war  one  against  another ;  for,  as 
contrary  as  cruelty  is  to  mercy,  tyranny  to  charity, 
so  is  war  and  bloodshed  to  the  meekness  and  gen 
tleness  of  the  Christian  religion." 

"  War,"  eays  Robert  Hall,  "  is  the  fruitful  parent 


LIGHT   OF   REVELATION.  139 

of  crimes.  It  reverses  all  the  rides  of  morality.  It  is 
nothing-  less  than  A  TEMPORARY  REPEAL  OF  THE  PRIN 
CIPLES  OF  VIRTUE.  It  is  a  system  out  of  which  almost 
adl  the  virtues  are  excluded,  and  in  which  nearly  all  the 
vices  are  included.  Whatever  renders  human  nature 
amiable  or  respectable,  whatever  engages  love  or 
confidence,  is  sacrificed  at  its  shrine.  It  removes, 
so  far  as  an  enemy  is  concerned,  the  basis  of  all  so 
ciety,  of  all  civilization  and  virtue  ;  for  the  basis  of 
these  is  the  good-will  due  to  every  individual  of  the 
species,  as  being  a  part  of  ourselves.  The  sword, 
and  that  alone,  cuts  asunder  the  bond  of  consan 
guinity  which  unites  man  to  man.  Hence  the  mo 
rality  of  peaceful  times  is  directly  opposite  to  the 
maxims  of  war.  The  fundamental  rule  of  the  first 
is  to  do  good  ;  of  the  latter,  to  inflict  injuries.  The 
former  teaches  men  to  love  their  enemies  ;  the  latter, 
to  make  themselves  terrible  even  to  strangers.  The 
rules  of  morality  will  not  suffer  us  to  promote  the 
dearest  interests  by  falsehood  ;  the  maxims  of  war 
applaud  it  when  employed  in  the  destruction  of 
others." 

Let  us  put  war  and  Christianity  side  by  side,  and 
see  how  far  they  agree.  Christianity  saves  men; 
war  destroys  them.  Christianity  elevates  men ; 
war  debases  and  degrades  them.  Christianity  puri 
fies  men ;  war  corrupts  and  defiles  them.  Christ 
ianity  blesses  men  ;  war  curses  them.  God  says, 
thou  shalt  not  kill ;  war  says,  thou  shalt  kill.  God 
says,  blessed  are  the  peace-makers  ;  war  says,  blessed 
are  the  war-makers.  God  says,  love  your  enemies ; 
war  says,  hate  them,  God  says,  forgive  men  their 
trespasses  ;  war  says,  forgive  them  not.  God  enjoins 
forgiveness,  and  forbids  revenge ;  while  war  scorns 
the  former,  and  commands  the  latter.  God  says, 
resist  not  evil ;  war  says,  you  may  and  must  resist 
evil.  God  says,  if  any  man  smite  thee  on  one  cheek, 
9 


140  WAR    VIEWED   IN    THE 

turn  to  him  the  other  also ;  war  says,  turn  not  the 
other  cheek,  but  knock  the  smiter  down.  God  says, 
bless  those  who  curse  you ;  bless,  and  curse  not : 
war  says,  curse  those  who  curse  you;  curse,  and 
bless  not.  God  says,  pray  for  those  who  despite- 
fully  use  you ;  war  says,  pray  against  them,  and 
seek  their  destruction.  God  says,  see  that  none 
render  evil  for  evil  unto  any  man ;  war  says,  be 
sure  to  render  evil  for  evil  unto  all  that  injure  you. 
God  says,  overcome  evil  with  good ;  war  says,  over 
come  evil  with  evil.  God  says,  if  thine  enemy  hun 
ger,  feed  him ;  if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink :  war 
says,  if  you  do  supply  your  enemies  with  food  and 
clothing,  you  shall  be  shot  as  a  traitor.  God  says, 
do  good  unto  all  men  ;  war  says,  do  as  much  evil 
as  you  can  to  your  enemies.  God  says  to  all  men, 
love  one  another ;  war  says,  hate  and  kill  one  an 
other.  God  says,  they  that  take  the  sword,  shall 
perish  by  the  sword  j  war  says,  they  that  take  the 
sword,  shall  be  saved  by  the  sword.  God  says, 
blessed  is  he  that  trusteth  in  the  Lord ;  war  says, 
cursed  is  such  a  man,  and  blessed  is  he  who  trusteth 
in  swords  and  guns.  God  says,  beat  your  swords 
into  ploughshares,  your  spears  into  pruning-hooks, 
and  learn  war  no  more  ;  war  says,  make  swords  and 
spears  still,  and  continue  to  learn  war. 


SECTION  II. 

WAR    AND    THE    OLD    TESTAMENT. 

The  Old  Testament  has  been  supposed  to  coun 
tenance  war.  It  does  of  course  justify  those  which 
God  expressly  commanded ;  but  it  lends  no  en 
couragement  or  sanction  to  the  custom  itself.  The 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  141 

wars  divinely  enjoined  or  permitted,  were  excep 
tions  for  specific,  peculiar,  temporary  purposes; 
and  if  we  separate  the  precepts  of  the  Old  Testa 
ment  from  its  somewhat  mysterious  history,  we 
shall  find  its  general  principles  implicitly  forbid 
ding  war.  It  inculcates  love,  and  meekness,  and 
forbearance,  and  forgiveness,  and  general  benefi 
cence,  and  a  variety  of  other  duties  that  are  quite 
incompatible  with  this  trade  of  blood. 

Let  us  analyze  the  decalogue  as  an  epitome  of  the 
moral  teachings  found  in  the  Jewish  scriptures. 
If  we  adopt  the  common  division  into  two  tables — 
our  duties  directly  to  God,  and  our  duties  to  each 
other,  we  shall  find  that  war  violates  the  whole 
spirit  and  every  precept  of  each  table. 

Tfiou  shalt  have  no  other  gods  before  me,  nor  make 
unto  thee  any  graven  image,  nor  bow  down  thyself  to 
them,  nor  serve  them. — War  contravenes  all  such  pre 
cepts.  It  sprang  from  paganism  ;  its  spirit  is  es 
sentially  pagan  still ;  and  its  laws  everywhere  re 
quire  soldiers  to  obey  their  officers  rather  than  God 
himself.  Does  it  not  thus  dethrone  Jehovah  from 
the  hearts  of  an  army  ?  Are  not  soldiers  notorious 
for  their  neglect  of  God?  Can  war  be  anything 
else  than  a  vast  nursery  of  irreligion  ?  Every  man, 
whether  a  private,  an  officer,  or  even  a  chaplain,  is 
bound  by  his  oath  to  obey  his  superiors,  right  or 
wrong,  rather  than  God  himself.  War  was  the 
origin  of  nearly  all  the  demi-gods  ever  worshipped ; 
and,  had  Napoleon  lived  three  thousand  years  ear 
lier,  he  would  have  been  the  very  Mars  or  Jupiter 
Tonans  of  the  World. 

Thou  shall  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God 
in  vain. — War  is  a.  school  of  impiety  and  profane- 
ness  ;  blasphemy  is  the  well-known  dialect  of  the 
army  and  navy ;  you  can  hardly  enter  a  camp  or  a 
war-ship  without  meeting  a  volley  of  oaths,  or  find 


142  WAR    TIE  WED   IN    THE 

a  warrior  on  land  or  sea,  who  does  not  habitually 
blaspheme  the  name  of  God.  An  eye-witness, 
speaking  of  one  of  our  own  armies,  says  we  should 
not  wonder  at  their  frequent  defeats,  "  if  we  could 
hear  the  men,  from  the  general  to  the  private,  strive 
to  outvie  each  other  in  uttering  the  most  horrid 
imprecations  and  blasphemy,  and  ridiculing  every 
thing  like  religion." 

Remember  the  Sabbath-day  to  keep  it  holy. — War 
scorns  to  acknowledge  any  Sabbath.  Its  battles 
are  fought,  its  marches  continued,  its  fortifications 
constructed,  all  its  labors  exacted,  all  its  recreations 
indulged,  quite  as  much  on  this  as  any  other  day  of 
the  week,  It  is  the  chosen  time  for  special  and 
splendid  reviews ;  all  the  millions  of  soldiers  in 
Christendom  are  compelled  to  violate  the  Sabbath  ; 
and,  where  the  war-spirit  is  rife,  it  will  be  found 
well  nigh  impossible  to  preserve,  in  any  degree  of 
vigor,  this  mainspring  of  Gad's  moral  government 
over  our  world. 

Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother. — Here  is  God'a 
shield  of  home  with  its  garnered  affections  ;  but 
war  sports  with  these  affections,  and  rudely  tram 
ples  the  hearth  and  the  altar  under  its  bloody  hoof.. 
Its  spirit,  its  aims,  its  very  laws,  its  legitimate, 
and  designed  results,  are  adverse  to  this  command ; 
and  its  whole  history  has  been  a  crusade  upon  the, 
endearments,  the  rights  and  interests  of  that  do 
mestic  constitution  which  God  established  in  Eden 
itself,  as  the  grand  nursery  of  social  virtue  and 
happiness. 

Thou  shalt  not  kill. — It  is  the  very  object,  the 
main  business  of  war  to  kill  men.  It  is  the  most 
terrible  engine  ever  contrived  for  their  destruction  * 
incomparably  more  destructive  to  life  than  the  in 
quisition  or  the  slave-trade,  than  famine,  or  pesti 
lence,  or  any  form  of  disease  that  .ever  swept  over 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  143 

the  earth.  It  was  not  possible  for  men  or  devils  to 
devise  a  more  wholesale  violation  of  a  precept  so 
vital  to  the  welfare  of  society,  and  to  all  the  great 
interests  of  our  race. 

Thou  shall  not  commit  adultery. — -War  is  a  hot-bed 
of  the  foulest  licentiousness.  It  is  deemed  the  sol 
dier's  privilege  ;  and,  wherever  an  army  is  encamped, 
a  war-ship  moored,  or  a  city  taken,  he  is  permitted 
to  indulge  his  lusts  at  will.  In  1380,  some  English 
troops,  while  wind-bound  near  Portsmouth,  and 
waiting  for  provisions,  forcibly  carried  off  men's 
wives  and  daughters ;  and,  among  other  outrages, 
their  commander  went  to  a  nunnery,  and  demanded 
admittance  for  his  soldiers ;  and  being  refused,  they 
entered  by  violence,  compelled  the  nuns  to  go  with 
them,  and  afterwards  threw  them  into  the  sea! 
When  an  English  man-of-war  was  accidentally  sunk 
near  Spithead,  she  carried  down  with  her  no  less 
than  six  hundred  lewd  women ;  and  amidst  the 
fires  of  captured  Magdeburg  and  Moscow,  were 
heard  continually  the  wild,  despairing  shrieks  of 
ravished  mothers  and  daughters.  War  is  a  Sodom  ; 
and,  could  all  its  impurities  be  collected  in  one 
place,  we  might  well  expect  another  storm  of  fire 
and  brimstone, 

Thou  shalt  not  steal, — War  is  a  system  of  legal 
ized  national  robbery ;  the  very  same  thing,  only 
on  a  larger  scale,  and  under  the  sanction  of  govern 
ment,  for  which  individuals  are  sent  to  the  prison 
or  the  gallows.  To  plunder,  burn  and  destroy,  is 
the  soldier's  professed  business.  All  this  accords 
with  the  laws  of  war  ;  and  every  government,  in  its 
letters  of  marque  and  reprisal,  licences  men  to  com 
mit  piracy  at  pleasure ! 

Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  witness. — War  glories  in 
violating  this  prohibition  by  wholesale.  It  culti 
vates  the  art  of  lying  as  one  of  its  excellencies,  and 


144  WAR   VIEWED   IN    THE 

rewards  it  as  a  meritorious  service.  It  is  a  part  of 
the  trade  to  misrepresent,  and  deceive,  and  traduce, 
and  circumvent  an  enemy.  It  even  hires  traitors 
and  spies  to  practise  deception  for  the  most  malig 
nant  purposes.  Almost  every  war  is  a  tissue  of 
practical  falsehoods  on  both  sides. 

T/wu  shalt  not  covet. — We  can  hardly  find  a  war 
that  did  not  begin  and  end  with  the  violation  of 
this  principle.  What  are  countries  wasted,  and  ter 
ritory  conquered,  and  cities  plundered,  all  its  legal 
ized  robberies  and  piracies,  but  so  many  forms  of 
prohibited  coveting  ?  At  Hamburg,  40,000  per 
sons  were  driven  from  their  homes  without  clothes, 
money,  or  provisions,  of  which  their  enemies  had 
despoiled  them :  and  around  Leipsic  nothing  was 
spared,  neither  the  ox,  nor  the  calf  two  days  old; 
neither  the  ewe,  nor  the  lamb  scarcely  able  to  walk, 
neither  the  brood-hen,  nor  the  tender  chicken. 
Whatever  had  life,  was  slaughtered  ;  and  even  the 
meanest  bedstead  of  the  meanest  beggar  was  car 
ried  off.  Such  things  are  inseparable  from  war. 

Yet  one  of  the  strongest  pleas  for  this  custom 
has  been  drawn  from  the  divinely  authorized  wars, 
recorded  in  the  Old  Testament.  No  one  can  deny, 
that  the  Israelites  were  engaged  in  many,  and  often 
very  destructive  wars,  under  the  sanction  of  Jeho 
vah ;  but  -'those  wars"  says  the  excellent  Gurney, 
"  differed  from  all  others  in  certain  very  important 
particulars.  That  very  divine  sanction  which  is 
pleaded,  did  in  fact  distinguish  them  from  all  those 
in  which  any  other  nation  is  known  to  have  been 
ever  engaged.  They  were  undertaken  in  pursuance 
of  God's  express  command,  and  directed  to  the  ac 
complishment  of  his  revealed  designs.  These  de 
signs  had  a  twofold  object — the  temporal  preserva 
tion  and  prosperity  of  his  peculiar  people,  and  the 
punishment  and  destruction  of  idolatrous  nations. 


LIGHT   OF   REVELATION.  145 

The  Israelites  were  sometimes  engaged  in  war  with 
out  any  direction  from  God  ;  but  such  of  their  mili 
tary  operations  as  were  sanctioned  by  the  Lord,  as 
sumed  the  character  of  a  work  of  obedience  and 
faith.  They  went  forth  to  battle  in  compliance 
with  his  command,  and  in  reliance  upon  his  aid. 
These  characteristics  of  their  warfare  were  attended 
with  two  very  marked  consequences :  first,  that 
their  conflicts,  so  far  from  being  attended  by  that 
destruction  of  moral  and  pious  feeling  which  is  so 
generally  the  effect  of  war,  were  often  accompanied 
by  high  religious  excellence  in  those  who  thus 
fought  the  battles  of  the  Lord,  as  in  the  case  of 
Joshua,  the  Judges,  and  David  ;  and  secondly,  that 
these  contests  were  followed  by  uniform  success. 
Now,  it  cannot  be  predicated  even  of  the  justest 
wars  among  other  nations,  that  they  are  undertaken 
by  the  direct  command  of  Jehovah  ;  or  that  they 
are  a  work  of  obedience  and  faith  ;  or  that  they  are 
often  accompanied  with  high  religious  excellence  in 
those  who  undertake  them  ;  or  that  they  are  fol 
lowed  by  uniform  success.  Even  if  the  system  of 
Israelitish  morals,  then,  was  still  in  force  without 
alteration,  we  could  not  justly  conclude  from  such 
an  example,  that  warfare,  as  generally  practised,  is 
in  any  case  consistent  with  the  will  of  God." 

It  is  clear  that  the  "  Old  Testament  does  not  sanc 
tion  war  in  the  abstract,  or  as  a  custom ;  for  every 
case  of  lawful  war  was  expressly  enjoined  or  per 
mitted  ;  and.  if  such  authority  were  now  given,  we 
too  might  properly  resort  to  arms."  But  this  com 
mand  or  permission  just  neutralizes  the  example 
as  a  guide  to  us.  God  bade  Abraham  sacrifice  Isaac. 
Will  this  justify  parents  now  in  murdering  their 
children  at  pleasure  ?  God  commanded  Moses  to 
stone  the  Sabbath-breaker  to  death.  Are  we  bound 
to  do  the  same  ?  God  indulged  patriarchs  in  po- 
13 


146  WAR   VIEWED   IN   THE 

lygamy  and  concubinage.  Does  their  example 
make  such  things  lawful  for  us  V — We  are  remind 
ed,  however,  that  God  could  never  have  enjoined  or 
permitted  anything  that  is  necessarily  wrong.  Few 
things  are  so ;  but,  if  not  necessarily  wrong,  who 
now  regards  filicide,  and  polygamy,  and  concubi 
nage,  and  arbitrary  divorce,  and  many  other  prac 
tices  allowed  to  the  Israelites,  as  lawful  under  the 
gospel  ? — But  the  wars  of  the  Israelites  were  pro 
perly  penal  executions  ;  merely  the  infliction  of  such 
penalties  as  God  himself  prescribed  against  trans 
gressors  of  his  law.  Should  a  bevy  of  constables 
attempt  to  imprison  or  execute  a  gang  of  sentenced 
criminals,  and  meet  from  them  a  desperate  and 
bloody  resistance,  would  the  conflict  deserve  to  be 
called  war  ?  Yet  such  were  the  wars  of  the  Israel 
ites.  The  idolaters  of  Canaan  had  committed  high 
treason  against  Heaven  ;  God  denounced  upon  them 
the  penalty  of  utter  extermination  5  the  Israelites 
were  commissioned  to  inflict  this  penally  ;  and  all 
they  did,  resembles  an  execution  far  more  than  it 
docs  war.  God  assumed  the  whole  responsibility 
of  the  deed  ;  the  Israelites  were  mere  executioners 
of  his  will. — But  those  wars  were  distinguished 
from  all  others  by  two  peculiarities  ; — they  occurred 
under  a  theocracy,  a  government  of  which  God  him 
self  was  the  head  ;  and  they  were  expressly  enjoined 
or  permitted  by  him.  Since  the  close  of  revelation, 
men  cannot  be  placed  in  the  same  circumstances, 
and  therefore  can  never  apply  to  themselves  this 
example  of  the  Israelites. — But  if  applied,  the  ex 
ample  would  prove  too  much.  The  chief  wars  of 
the  Israelites  were  wars  of  aggression,  conquest  and 
utter  extermination  ;  and  such  an  example,  if  it 
proves  anything,  would  justify  the  most  horrid, 
wholesale  butcheries  ever  committed  in  the  strife 


LIGHT   OF   REVELATION.  147 

of  nations.  "Would  any  man  now  deem  such  wars 
right  ?  If  not,  he  should  never  quote  those  of  the 
Israelites;  for  there  the  aggressors  were  justified, 
and  those  who  acted  in  self-defence  were  condemned. 



SECTION  III. 

WAR    AND    THE    NEW   TESTAMENT. 

So  far  the  Old  Testament ;  but  the  gospel,  re 
pealing  the  ancient  law  or  license  of  retaliation, 
and  putting  in  its  place  the  principle  of  universal 
good-will,  is  still  more  repugnant  to  the  custom  of 
war.  Its  spirit,  its  principles,  its  legitimate  results 
are  all  antagonistic  to  those  of  Christianity.  Peace 
was  the  song  chanted  over  her  cradle  by  angels 
fresh  from  the  God  of  love.  Her  Founder  was  the 
Prince  of  Peace  ;  her  gospel  is  the  statute-book  of 
peace  ;  the  principles  of  peace  are  scattered 
throughout  the  New  Testament ;  and  most  fully 
were  they  enforced  by  the  example  of  Christ,  his 
apostles,  and  all  his  early  disciples. 

Glance  at  the  general  contrariety  of  war  to  the 
gospel.  "  It  contradicts,"  says  Dr.  Malcom,  "  the 
very  genius  and  intention  of  Christianity.  Christ 
ianity,  if  it  prevailed,  would  make  the  earth  a  para 
dise  ;  war,  wherever  it  prevails,  makes  it  a  slaughter 
house,  a  den  of  thieves,  a  brothel,  a  hell.  Christ 
ianity  is  the  remedy  for  all  human  woes ;  war  pro 
duces  every  woe  known  to  man.  All  the  features, 
all  the  concomitants,  all  the  results  of  war,  are  the 
opposite  of  the  features,  the  concomitants,  the  results 
of  Christianity.  The  two  systems  conflict  in  every 
part  irreconcilably  and  eternally." 

"  The  whole  structure  of  an  army  is  in  violation 


148 


WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE 


of  New  Testament  precepts.  What  absolute  despo 
tism  !  k  Condescending  to  men  of  low  estate'  would 
spoil  discipline.  '  Esteeming  others  better  than 
ourselves'  would  degrade  the  officers.  Instead  of 
humility,  must  be  gay  trappings.  Instead  of 
Christ's  law  of  love,  must  be  man's  rule  of  honor. 
Instead  of  examining  all  things,  the  soldier  must 
be  like  a  trained  blood-hound,  ready  to  be  let  loose 
against  any  foe.  Instead  of  returning  good  for 
evil,  the  army  is  organized  expressly  to  return 
injuries  with  interest.  The  qualities  required  in 
the  Christian,  spoil  a  soldier  for  the  field.  He 
must  then  cast  away  meekness,  and  fight.  He 
must  cast  away  honesty,  and  forage.  He  must 
cast  away  forgiveness,  and  revenge  his  country.  He 
must  return  blow  for  blow,  wound  for  wound. 
Thus,  when  we  take  the  common  soldier  individu 
ally,  we  find  him  compelled  to  violate  every  precept  of 
his  religion." 

The  celebrated  Erasmus,  more  than  three  centu 
ries  ago,  put  the  contrariety  of  war  to  the  gospel, 
in  a  startling  light.  "  Let  us,"  says  he,  "  imagine 
we  hear  a  soldier  among  these  fighting  Christians 
saying  the  Lord's  Prayer  just  before  battle.  OUR 
FATHER  !  says  he.  0,  hardened  wretch !  can  you 
call  God  Father,  when  you  are  just  going  to  cut 
your  brother's  throat  ? — Hallowed  be  thy  name. 
How  can  the  name  of  God  be  more  impiously  un- 
hallowed  than  by  mutual  bloody  murder  among  his 
sons? — Thy  kingdom  come.  Do  you  pray  for  the 
coming  of  his  kingdom,  while  you  are  endeavoring 
to  establish  an  earthly  despotism  by  spilling  the 
blood  of  God's  sons  and  subjects  ? — Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  His  will  in  heaven  is 
for  PEACE  ;  but  you  are  now  meditating  WAR — Give 
us  this  day  our  daily  bread.  How  dare  you  say  this 
to  your  Father  in  heaven  at  the  moment  you  are 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  149 

going  to  burn  your  brother's  corn-fields,  and  would 
rather  lose  the  benefit  of  them  yourself  than  suffer 
him  to  enjoy  them  unmolested '? — Forgive  us  our 
trespasses  as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us. 
With  what  face  can  you  pray  thus,  when,  so  far 
from  forgiving  your  brother,  you  are  going  with  all 
the  haste  you  can,  to  murder  him  in  cold  blood  for 
an  alleged  trespass  which,  after  all,  is  but  im 
aginary  'I — Lead  us  not  into  temptation.  And  do 
you  presume  to  deprecate  temptation  or  danger — 
you  who  are  not  only  rushing  into  it  yourself,  but 
doing  all  you  can  to  force  your  brother  into  it  ? — 
Deliver  us  from  evil.  You  pray  to  be  delivered  from 
evil,  that  is,  from  the  evil  being,  Satan,  to  whose 
impulses  you  are  now  submitting  yourself,  and  by 
whose  spirit  you  are  guided  in  contriving  the  great 
est  possible  evil  to  your  brother  'I" 

Let  us  state  a  few  points  that  will  probably  be 
conceded  by  all.  1.  The  deeds  of  war  in  themselves 
considered,  are  confessedly  forbidden  in  the  New 
Testament,  and  can  be  justified  only  on  the  suppo 
sition,  that  government  has  a  right  in  war  to  re 
verse  or  suspend  the  enactments  of  Heaven. 

2.  The  spirit  of  war  is  acknowledged  by  all  to 
be  contrary  to  that  of  the  gospel.  But  can  we 
have  war  without  its  spirit  ?  What  is  the  spirit  of 
any  custom  or  act  but  the  moral  character  of  that 
custom  or  act  ?  Blasphemy  without  the  spirit  of 
blasphemy  !  Perpetrate  the  deeds  of  war  without 
the  spirit  of  war,  and  destroy  property,  life  and 
happiness  by  wholesale,  from  motives  of  pure  be 
nevolence  !  Kill  men  just  for  their  own  benefit! 
Send  them  to  perdition  for  their  good ! !  Tre 
mendous  logic  ;  yet  the  only  sort  of  logic  that  ever 
attempts  to  reconcile  war  with  the  gospel ;  a  logic 
that  would  require  us  to  suppose,  that  thousands 
of  cut-throats  by  profession,  generally  unprincipled 
13* 


150  WAR    VIEWED   IN    THE 

and  reckless,  fierce,  irascible  and  vindictive,  the 
tigers  of  society,  will  shoot,  and  stab,  and  trample 
one  another  down  in  the  full  exercise  of  Christian 
patience,  forgiveness  and  love  !  ! 

3.  The  qualities  required   of  warriors,  are  the 
reverse  of  those  which  characterize  the  Christian. 
Even  Paley,  the  ablest  champion  of  war,  avers  that 
"  no  two  things   can   be  more    different  than  the 
Heroic  and  the   Christian  characters,"    and  then 
proceeds  to  exhibit  the  two  in  striking  contrast  as 
utterly   irreconcilable.      Must  not  war  itself   be 
equally  incompatible  with  Christianity  ? 

4.  The  gospel  enjoins  no  virtue  which  the  sol 
dier  may  not  discard  without  losing  his  military 
rank  or  reputation  ;  nor  does  it  forbid  a  solitary 
vice  which  he  may  not  practise  without  violating  the 
principles  of  war. 

5.  While  the  gospel  prescribes  rules  for  every 
lawful  relation    and    employment   in   life,  it   lays 
down  not  a  single  principle  applicable  to  the  sol 
dier's  peculiar  business,  and  evidently  designed  for 
his  use.     If  war  is  right,  why  this  studious  avoid 
ance,  this  utter  neglect  of  its  agents  ? 

6.  The  Old  Testament  predicts  that  the  gospel 
will  one  day  banish  war  from  the  earth  forever. 
But,  if  consistent  with   Christianity,  how  will  the 
gospel  ever  abolish  it  ?    The  gospel  destroy  what  it 
sanctions  and  supports ! 

7.  Christians,  in  the  warmest  glow  of  their  love 
to  God  and  man,   shrink  with  instinctive   horror 
from  the  deeds  of  cruelty  and  blood  essential  to 
war ;  nor  can  they,  in  such  a  state  of  mind,  perpe 
trate  them  without    doing  violence   to  their  best 
feelings. 

8.  Converts  from  paganism,  in  the  simplicity  of 
their  first  faith,  have  uniformly  understood  the  gos 
pel  as  forbidding  this  custom.     Such  was  remark- 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  151 

ably  the  case  in  the  South  Sea  Islands ;  and  the 
fact  goes  far  to  prove,  that  no  mind,  not  under  the 
hereditary  delusions  of  war,  would  ever  find  in  the 
gospel  any  license  for  its  manifold  abominations. 

But  let  the  New  Testament  speak  for  itself.  It 
may  forbid  war  either  by  a  direct  condemnation  of  it, 
or  by  the  prohibition  of  its  moral  elements,  the  things 
which  go  to  constitute  war :  and  we  contend  that 
the  gospel  does  forbid  it  in  both  these  ways. 

I.  Note    first   its   express    condemnation   of  war. 
"  From  whence  come  wars  and  fighting  among  you  ? 
Come  they  not  hence  even  of  your  lusts?"  James 
iv.    1.      We   cannot  well  conceive  a  denunciation 
more  direct  or  more  decisive.     Our  Saviour  before 
Pilate  declared,    "  if   my   kingdom  were  of    this 
world,  then  would  my  servants  fight ;  but  now  is 
my  kingdom  not  from  hence."  John  xviii.  36.     A 
most  unequivocal  condemnation  of  war  as  inconsis 
tent  with  Christianity.      "  Follow  peace  with   all 
men."  Heb.  xii.    14.     Or,  as  it  is  in  the  original, 
seek  earnestly,  with  all  your  might,  after  peace,  not 
only  with  your  own  countrymen,  but  with  foreign 
ers  ;  not  with  your  friends  alone,  but  with  your  ene 
mies,  with  the  whole  human  race.     What  language 
could,  if  these   passages  do  not,  condemn  war  as 
utterly  unchristian  ? 

II.  But  look  at  the  still  more  decisive  mode  of 
forbidding  war  by  the  condemnation  of  its  moral  ele- 
ments.     The  gospel  puts  them  all  under  ban.     War 
contravenes  the  fundamental  principle  of  Christianity. 
This  principle  is,  enmity  subdued  by  love,  evil  over 
come  with  good,  injury  requited  by  kindness.     It 
pervades  the  whole  New  Testament ;  it  is  the  soul 
of  the  Christian  system.     The  peculiar  precepts  of 
the  gospel  all  rest  on  this  principle ;  nor  can  we 
take  it  away  without  subverting  the  entire  fabric  of 
Christianity.      But  this  principle  is  incompatible 


152  WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE 

with  war,  because  war  always  aims  to  overcome  evil 
with  evil,  to  return  injury  JOT  injury,  to  subdue  our 
enemies  by  making  them  wretched,  to  inflict  on  our 
assailants  the  very  evils  they  meditate  against  us, 
to  save  our  own  life,  property  and  happiness  by  sac 
rificing  theirs.  Such  is  war  in  its  best  form  ;  but, 
if  this  be  not  a  contradiction  of  the  gospel,  we  know 
not  what  is,  and  challenge  you  to  conceive  a  prin 
ciple  more  directly  opposed  to  that  which  lies  at 
the  foundation  of  Christianity. 

But  the  gospel  condemns  in  detail  the  moral  ele 
ments  of  war.  "  Lay  aside  all  malice  ;  and  let  all 
bitterness,  and  wrath,  and  anger  be  put  away. — 
Avenge  not  yourselves.  Recompense  to  no  man 
evil  for  evil.  See  that  none  render  evil  for  evil  to 
any  man. — Whereas  there  is  among  you  envying, 
and  strife,  and  division,  are  ye  not  carnal  ? — Now, 
the  works  of  the  flesh  are  these  :  hatred,  variance, 
emulation,  wrath,  strife,  sedition,  envyings,  murders, 
revilings,  and  such  like."  Need  any  one  be  told, 
that  the  things  here  denounced,  are  inseparable 
from  war,  and  constitute  its  very  essence  ?  What ! 
war  without  malice  or  hatred,  without  bitterness, 
wrath  or  anger,  without  division  or  strife,  without 
variance,  emulation  or  murder!  Nations  go  to 
war  without  avenging  themselves,  and  rendering 
evil  for  evil ! 

The  gospel,  however,  still  more  fully  condemns 
war  by  enjoining  what  is  inconsistent  with  it.  "  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself;"  and  the  parable 
of  the  Good  Samaritan  makes  every  human  being 
our  neighbor.  "  Love  worketh  no  ill  to  his  neigh 
bor  ;  therefore,  love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law. 
Charity  (love)  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind ;  seeketh 
not  her  own  ;  is  not  easily  provoked  :  thinketh  no 
evil ;  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth 
all  things,  endureth  all  things. — Do  good  unto  all 


LIGHT   OF   REVELATION.  153 

men.  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do 
unto  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them. — By  this  shall  all 
men  know  that  ye  are  my  disciples,  if  ye  have  love 
one  to  another.  Have  peace  one  with  another. 
The  fruit  of  the  spirit  is  love,  joy,  peace,  long-suf 
fering,  gentleness,  goodness,  meekness.  Put  on 
bowels  of  mercies,  kindness,  peaceableness  of  mind, 
meekness,  long-suffering,  forbearing  one  another, 
forgiving  one  another,  even  as  Christ  forgave  you. 
The  wisdom  which  is  from  above,  is  first  pure,  then 
peaceable,  gentle,  and  easy  to  be  entreated. — Bless 
ed  are  the  poor  in  spirit — the  meek — the  merciful 
— the  peace-makers. — Resist  not  evil ;  but  whoso 
ever  shall  smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek,  turn  to 
him  the  other  also.  Overcome  evil  with  good. 
Love  your  enemies,  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do 
good  to  them  that  hate  you." 

Now,  do  not  such  passages  convey  a  most  un 
equivocal  condemnation  of  war  in  all  its  forms  1 
Love  thy  neighbor  AS  thyself- — by  shooting  and  stab 
bing  him  !  Love  worketh  no  ill  to  his  neighbor.  The 
soldier's  only  business  is  to  do  his  neighbor  all  the 
ill  he  can.  Do  unto  others  as  ye  would  that  they  should 
do  unto  you.  Would  you  like  to  have  them  burn 
your  dwelling  over  your  head,  butcher  your  whole 
family,  and  then  send  a  bullet  or  a  bayonet  through 
your  own  heart  1  Love  your  enemies,  and  do  them 
govd.  War  teaches  us  to  hate  them,  and  do  them 
all  the  evil  in  our  power.  Forgive  as  Christ  for 
gives.  Do  soldiers  forgive  in  this  way  ?  Avenge 
not  yourselves.  War  is  a  system  of  avowed  and 
studied  vengeance.  If  thine  enemy  hunger,  feed  him ; 
if  he  thirst,  give  him  drink.  Is  war  ever  waged  on 
this  principle  ?  Can  it  be,  without  ceasing  to  be 
war  ? 

We  know  well  the  plea,  that  these  precepts  are 
addressed  to  individuals,  not  to  governments  ;  but 


154  WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE 

we  challenge  the  slightest  proof  from  the  New  Tes 
tament,  that  one  government,  in  its  intercourse  with 
another,  is  exempt  from  these  obligations,  or  author 
ized  to  exempt  its  subjects  from  them.  We  are  also 
told,  that  many  of  these  passages  are  obviously  fig 
urative.  True  ;  but  they  mean  something.  What 
then  do  they  moan  ?  Resist  not  evil, — turn  the  other 
cheek  to  the  smiter, — overcome  evil  with  good.  Do  such 
passages  mean  to  allow  bombardment,  pillage,  de 
vastation,  slaughter?  If  not,  they  do  not  allow 
war.  Love  your  enemies,  and  do  them  good.  Does 
this  mean,  rui/i  their  commerce,  sink  their  fleets,  burn 
their  milages, plunder  their  cities,  blow  out  their  brains  ? 
So  of  all  the  precepts  we  have  quoted  ;  no  possible 
construction  can  make  them  allow  war. 

War  is  confessedly  a  bad  business  ;  and,  if  we 
must  have  it,  and  still  wish  its  work  of  blood  and 
vengeance  performed  according  to  the  gospel,  its 
deeds  of  hell  executed  in  the  spirit  of  heaven,  then 
must  we  change  its  agents,  and,  instead  of  such  vil 
lains  and  desperadoes  as  Napoleon  wanted  for  war 
riors,  instead  of  releasing  felons,  as  England  has 
"been  wont  to  do,  from  the-prison  and  the  gallows, 
on  condition  of  their  becoming  soldiers,  we  must 
select  from  the  church  her  best  members, — her  dea 
cons  and  elders,  her  pastors,  rectors  and  bishops, — 
as  the  only  men  that  can,  if  anybody  can,  rob,  and 
burn,  and  ravage,  and  murder  by  wholesale,  all 
without  malice,  from  motives  of  pure  benevolence, 
in  a  Christian  way  !  as  Paul,  or  Gabriel,  or  Christ 
himself  would  have  done! !  If  unfit  for  such  hands, 
then  is  the  whole  business  of  war  unchristian. 

Here  is  a  fair  test.  If  war  is  right  for  us,  it  must 
have  been  equally  so  for  our  Saviour  ;  but  can  you 
conceive  the  Prince  of  Peace,  or  one  of  his  apos 
tles,  leading  forth  an  army  to  their  work  of  plun 
der,  blood  and  devastation  ?  Can  you  point  to  a 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  155 

modern  field  of  battle,  on  which  Christ  or  Paul 
would  have  been  in  his  element  amidst  fire,  and 
blood,  and  groans,  and  dying  curses  ?  Is  there  a 
Christian  way  of  burning  villages,  and  plundering 
cities,  of  perpetrating  the  wholesale  butcheries  of 
the  battle-field,  and  hurling  thousands  on  thousands 
of  guilty  souls  into  the  eternal  world  ?  Does  the 
gospel  tell  us  how  to  do  such  things  aright — how 
apostles,  how  Christ  himself,  would  have  done 
them  ?  If  not,  then  is  war  utterly  incompatible 
with  that  gospel  which  proclaims  peace  on  earth  as 
one  of  its  first  and  most  glorious  peculiarities  ;  whose 
promised  reign  on  earth  is  to  be  a  reign  of  universal 
peace  ;  whose  disciples  are  all  required  to  overcome 
evil  with  good,  to  love  even  their  enemies,  and  imi 
tate  the  blessed  example  of  Him  who  reviled  not 
his  revilers,  nor  returned  one  curse  for  the  many 
curses  heaped  upon  himself  by  his  crucifiers,  but 
prayed  on  his  cross,  "  Father,  forgive  them ;  they 
know  not  what  they  do." 




SECTION  IV. 


DIFFICULTIES    FROM    THE    NEW   TESTAMENT. 

1.  WE  should  of  course  expect  to  find  some  dif 
ficulties  even  in  the  New  Testament ;  and  the  first 
is  the  plea,  that  John  the  Baptist  did  not  require 
the  soldiers  who  came  to  him  for  instruction,  to  quit 
the  army. — Now,  we  submit,  that  John,  the  fore 
runner  of  Christ,  belonged  not  to  the  Christian, 
but  to  the  Jewish  dispensation ;  and  hence  his  re 
ply,  whatever  it  might  be,  could  not  prove  war  to 
be  consistent  with  Christianity,  because  it  has  no 
bearing  on  the  point.  Even  if  admitted,  to  what 


156  WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE 

does  it  amount?  He  did  not  bid  the  soldiers 
abandon  their  occupation  :  nor  did  Christ  tell  the 
woman  of  Samaria  to  cease  from  her  adulteries,  or 
any  others  to  relinquish  the  business  in  which  they 
had  been  engaged.  The  grossest  idolatry  formed  a 
part  of  the  Roman  military  service.  Did  John's 
answer  justify  that?  If  not,  then  it  could  lend  no 
sanction  to  the  custom  of  war.  He  did  not  in  fact 
touch  the  question  of  the  lawfulness  of  their  pro 
fession. 

2.  '  But  the  New  Testament  nowhere  condemns 
war  by  name} — We  deny  the  assertion  ;  but,  if  true, 
what  would  it  prove  ?     The  New  Testament  does 
not  in  this  way  condemn  polygamy  or  concubinage, 
gambling  or  suicide,  duelling,  the  slave-trade  or  pi 
racy  ;    but   does   the   gospel  allow   such    practices 
merely  because  it  does  not  denounce  them  by  name  ? 
It  does  condemn  what  constitutes  them,  every  one 
of  their  moral  elements  ;  a  mode  of  condemnation 
much  less  equivocal,  and  far  more  decisive. 

3.  Equally  futile  is  the  plea,  that  neither  Christ 
nor  his  apostles  ever  expressly  censured  the  pro 
fession  of  arms. — Nor  did  they  thus  censure  other 
professions  or  employments  ;   and    this  argument^ 
if  it  proves  anything,  would  justify  almost  every 
species  of  wickedness  prevalent  in  their  day.     Be 
cause  our  Saviour  did  not  condemn  the  religion  of 
the  Syro-Phenician  woman  that  came  to  him.  (Matt, 
xv.  21 — 28.)  does  the  gospel  sanction  idolatry  ?  Be 
cause  he  did  not  reprove  the  woman  of  Samaria  at 
Jacob's  well,  for  the  adultery  and  concubinage  in 
which  she  had  lived  for  years.  (John  iv.  7 — 30.)  are 
we  to  regard  his  silence  in  the  case  as  an  approval 
of  such   things?     Because   he    did   not   expressly 
condemn  the  former  profession  even  of  the  penitent 
Magdalene,  (Luke  vii.  37 — 50;)  does  the  gospel  con 
nive  at  harlotry  ? 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  157 

4.  Essentially  the  same  answer  may  be  given  to 
the  ease  of  the  "  centurion  having  soldiers  under 
him,"    who   besought  that   his   servant   might    be 
healed,  and  of  whom  our  Saviour  said,  "  I  have  not 
found   so   great   faith,   no,   not   in    Israel,    (Matt, 
viii.  5 — 13  ;)  and  to  the  still  more  striking  case  of 
"  Cornelius,  a  centurion,  a  devout  man,  one   that 
feared  Grod,  gave  much  alms,  and  prayed  to  God  al 
ways,"  (Acts  x.  1 — 35.) — Make  the   most  of  these 
cases  ;  and  what  do  they  prove?    Merely  that  men, 
under  the  Jewish  dispensation,  to  which  they  both 
belonged  at  the  time,  might  be  devout,  and  still  re 
main  soldiers;  a  position  which  nobody   disputes. 
Neither  Christ,  nor  Peter,  says  a  word  respecting 
their  profession  ;  they  leave   us   to    determine  in 
other  ways  whether  it  is  consistent  with  the  gospel ; 
their  usual  mode  of  treating  the  former  profession 
or  employment  of  converts  to  Christianity.     Idol 
atry  was  an  essential  part  of  the  profession  of  those 
centurions  ;  and,  if  the  notice  taken  of  them  as  de 
vout  men,  proves  the  military  part  to  be  right,  it 
equally  proves  the  idolatrous  part  to  be  so.     The 
truth  is,  those  men  were  first  soldiers,  then  Chris- 
tians  ;  nor  have  we  the  slightest  proof  that  they  re 
mained  in  the  profession   of  arms,  but  strong  pre 
sumptive  evidence   that  they  relinquished  it,  both 
from  the  idolatrous  rites  which  it  enjoined,  and  from 
the  fact  that  there  is  no  authentic  record,  for  the 
two  or  three  first  centuries,  of  a  single  Christian 
continuing  in  the  trade  of  blood. 

5.  <;  But  our  Saviour  himself  bade  his  disciples 
procure  swords,  even   by  selling  their  garments." 
(Luke   xxii.   35 — 38;    Matt.   xxvi.   51 — 53.)— We 
will   not   here  attempt  a  full   explanation  of  this 
vexed  passage  ;  it  is  enough  for  our  present  purpose 
to  say,  that  no  interpretation  can  make  it  sanction 
any  use  of  the  sword.     When  one  of  his  disciples 

14 


158  WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE 

said,  "  Lord,  here  are  two  swords,"  he  replied,  "  it 
is  enough."  Two  swords  enough  to  arm  twelve 
men  !  When  one  of  them,  at  the  crisis  of  danger, 
asked,  "  Lord,  shall  we  smite  with  the  sword  ?"  he 
gave  no  answer  that  is  recorded  ;  but  his  influence 
in  restraining  the  disciples  from  violence,  proves 
again  that  he  did  not  design  the  effusion  of  blood. 
Nor  did  he  need  the  sword  for  his  protection,  since 
he  might  at  will  have  brought  to  his  rescue  u  more 
than  twelve  legions  of  angels."  When  Peter,  mis 
taking  his  Master's  design,  or  yielding  to  his  own 
passions,  drew  his  sword,  and  smote  the  servant's 
ear,  Christ  performed  a  miracle  to  heal  the  wound, 
and  added  this  severe  rebuke,  "  put  up  thy  sword  ; 
for  all  they  that  take  the  sword,  shall  perish  by  the 
sword."  Can  anything  be  plainer  than  that  our 
Saviour  did  not,  in  this  case,  sanction  any  use  of 
the  sword?  The  whole  transaction,  so  far  from 
countenancing  war,  is  a  most  decisive  condemnation 
of  the  custom. 

6.  We  are  gravely  told,  moreover,  that  our  Sav 
iour,  with  a  scourge  of  small  cords,  drove  the  deal 
ers  in  cattle  from   the  temple.  (John  ii.   14 — 17.) 
But  what  has  this  case  to  do  with  war  ?     Before  it 
can  touch  the  question,  you  must  prove,  not  only 
that  Christ  drove  out  the  cattle  with  the  cords,  but 
actually  killed  their  owners,  since  this  alone  re 
sembles  war  ;  and  that  his  example,  thus  explained, 
he  left  on  record  expressly  for  the  guidance  of  gov 
ernments  in  settling  their  disputes  !  ! 

7.  We  are  reminded,  however,  of  our  duty  to 
obey  civil  government  as  "  an  ordinance  of  God  ;" 
and  hence  the  alleged  right  and  even  obligation  of 
Christians   to   engage  in  war  at  the  call  of  their 
rulers. — Now,  there  is  not  in  all  the  New  Testament 
a  syllable  that  requires  or  permits  us  to  disobey 
God  at  the  bidding  of  our  rulers ;  and  both  Christ, 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  159 

his  apostles,  and  all  his  early  disciples,  uniformly 
refused,  at  the  hazard  of  their  lives,  to  obey  any 
requisition  of  civil  government  that  involved  dis 
obedience  to  God.  The  question  then  returns,  does 
the  gospel  allow  war  ?  If  so,  then  we  may  wage  it 
at  the  command  of  our  rulers ;  but,  if  not,  no  hu 
man  authority  can  make  it  right  for  us  to  do  so, 
If  he  authorizes  rulers  to  wage  war  at  pleasure, 
and  requires  us  to  support  them,  whether  right  or 
wrong, — a  supposition  impiously  absurd, — then  we 
may  engage  in  it  at  their  command  ;  but  if  not, 
then  no  human  authority  can  make  it  right  for  us 
to  do  so  in  violation  of  Christian  principle. 

'  The  Bible,  however,  allows  to  government  what 
it  forbids  to  individuals} — True,  in  some  cases  it 
does ;  but  in  such  cases  there  is  a  dear  exception  in 
favor  of  government.  Government,  as  the  repre 
sentative  of  associated  individuals,  is  regarded  by 
all  writers  on  international  law,  and  by  the  common 
sense  of  the  world,  as  a  moral  person,  subject  to  the 
same  obligations  with  individuals  in  all  cases  not  ex- 
cepted  by  God  himself;  and,  unless  he  has  expressly 
exempted  government,  the  general  principles  of  the 
gospel  are  just  as  binding  upon  rulers  as  upon  sub 
jects.  Every  precept  of  his  word,  unless  an  ex 
ception  is  made  in  their  favor  expressly,  or  from 
the  nature  of  the  case,  is  as  applicable  to  nations  as 
to  individuals,  and  bind  the  former  as  truly  as  they 
do  the  latter.  God  has  nowhere  prescribed  one 
set  of  moral  principles  for  individuals,  and  another 
for  nations  or  governments ;  and,  unless  the  gen 
eral  principles  of  his  word  are  obligatory  alike  on 
them  both,  the  latter  have  no  obligations  to  bind 
them,  and  no  rules  to  guide  them. 

8.  But  we  are  confidently  referred  to  the  passage 
which  speaks  of  civil  government  as  ordained  of 
God,  and  of  the  magistrate  as  a  minister  of  God, 


160  WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE 

armed  with  tlie  sword,  to  execute  wrath  upon  evil 
doers.  (Rom.  xiii.  1 — 7.) — Now,  the  whole  aim  of 
this  passage  is  to  enforce  the  duty  of  implicit  sub 
mission  to  government,  though  it  be  as  bad  as  that 
of  Nero  himself,  then  on  the  throne ; — a  principle 
which  cuts  up  by  the  roots  the  assumed  right  of 
armed  resistance  and  revolution,  which  all  advocates 
of  war  take  for  granted.  The  apostle  is  prescri 
bing  the  duty,  not  of  rulers,  but  of  subjects  alone, 
and  authorizes  only  by  implication,  if  at  all,  merely 
the  sword  of  the  magistrate,  not  the  sword  of  the 
warrior  ;  the  sword  being  used  here,  not  as  an  in 
strument  of  death,  but  only  as  an  emblem  of  author 
ity.  He  is  looking,  not  at  the  intercourse  of  one 
nation  with  another,  but  solely  at  the  relation  and 
duties  of  subjects  to  their  own  governments.  Not 
a  word  does  he  say  about  international  wars  ;  nor 
does  the  passage  express  or  involve  a  solitary  prin 
ciple  that  would  justify  any  species  of  war.  The 
most  it  can  possibly  mean  is,  that  government  may 
enforce  its  laws  upon  its  own  subjects,  and  punish 
them  for  disobedience ;  a  position  which  the  strong 
est  friends  of  peace  are  not  at  all  disposed  to  deny 
or  doubt,  but  most  fully  believe. 

Yet  it  may  be  said,  for  it  has  been,  that  this  right 
of  government  to  punish  or  restrain  its  own  subjects 
by  force,  involves  the  right  of  war.  We  think  not, 
but  contend,  that  the  right  to  inflict  capital  pun 
ishment,  and  to  use  the  sword  in  suppressing  mobs 
and  insurrections,  does  not  include  in  itself  the  right 
of  nations  to  wage  war  with  each  other.  War  is 
an  affair,  not  between  individuals  and  governments, 
but  between  GOVERNMENTS  THEMSELVES;  and  the 
agents  employed  in  carrying  it  on  are  treated, 
not  as  individuals,  but  as  representatives  of  their 
respective  governments,  What  then  is  the  sole 
point  of  inquiry  ?  Not  how  government  may  treat 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  1(51 

its  own  subjects,  but  how  one  NATION  may  treat  AN 
OTHER  nation,  The  former  is  the  government  ques 
tion,  the  latter  the  peace  question  ;  points  that  are 
entirely  distinct,  and  ought  never  to  be  confounded. 
Take  an  illustration.  As  the  head  of  a  family,  I 
will  suppose  I  have  a  right  from  God  to  punish  my 
children ;  but  this  right  cannot  justify  bloody  con 
tention  between  two  families.  My  authority  is  re 
stricted  to  my  own  household ;  arid  from  what  I 
may  lawfully  do  there,  you  cannot  argue  to  what  I 
may  do  to  any  other  family.  They  are  distinct,  in 
dependent  domestic  com  in  unities,  under  the  protec 
tion  of  a  government  common  to  them  both  ;  if  one 
injures  the  other,  redress  must  be  sought  in  the 
way  which  that  government  prescribes;  and  their 
duties  and  rights  in  respect  to  one  another  must  be 
determined,  not  by  what  the  father  of  each  family 
may  do  in  his  own  sphere,  but  by  the  laws  under 
which  they  live.  If  these  laws  permit  families  to 
fight  each  other,  then  have  they  such  a  right,  so  far 
as  the  government  over  them  can  give  it ;  and  on 
the  same  principle,  if  the  government  of  God,  the 
only  one  over  nations,  allows  them  to  war  against 
each  other,  then,  and  only  then,  have  they  a  right 
from  God  to  do  so.  But  no  man,  at  all  acquainted 
with  the  genius  of  Christianity,  or  the  teachings  of 
the  New  Testament,  can  believe  that  God  has  ap 
pointed  war,  like  civil  government,  for  the  good  of 
mankind,  or  authorized  nations,  any  more  than  in- 
dividuals,  to  fight  out  their  quarrels.  A  duel  be 
tween  twenty  or  fifty  millions  is  far  more  inconsist 
ent  with  Christianity,  than  is  a  duel  between  two 
individuals. 

1 4* 


162  WAR    VIEWED   IN    THE 


SECTION  V. 

EARLY    CHRISTIANS    ON    WAR. 

THE  Bible,  rather  than  any  human  authority, 
should  be  our  guide  ;  but,  since  the  early  Chris 
tians  learned  its  meaning  from  the  apostles  them 
selves,  or  their  immediate  successors,  we  naturally 
wish  to  ascertain  how  they  regarded  the  custom  of 
war.  Of  their  general  views  and  practice  on  this 
point,  there  now  remains  little,  if  any  doubt ;  for  it 
is  undeniable  that,  for  a  considerable  period,  so  long 
indeed  as  the  lamp  of  Christianity  burnt  pure  and 
bright,  they  held  it  unlawful  to  bear  arms,  and  ac 
tually  abstained  from  war  at  the  hazard  of  their 
lives  ;  nor  was  it  till  the  Church  became  corrupt, 
that  her  members  began  without  remorse  or  rebuke 
to  be  soldiers.  "  It  would  be  as  easy,"  says  a 
learned  writer  of  the  seventeenth  century,  "  to  ob 
scure  the  sun  at  mid-day,  as  to  deny  that  the  prim 
itive  Christians  renounced  all  revenge  and  war." 

Justin  Martyr,  Tatian,  Clemens  of  Alexandria, 
Tertullian,  Cyprian,  Lactantius,  and  a  multitude  of 
others  among  the  early  fathers,  declared  it  unlaw 
ful  for  Christians  to  engage  in  war.  It  seems  to 
have  been  for  nearly  three  centuries  the  common 
sentiment,  avowed  and  defended  by  the  great  cham 
pions  of  Christianity.  Justin  Martyr  and  Tatian 
talk  of  soldiers  and  Christians  as  distinct  charac 
ters  ;  and  Tatian  says  that  the  Christians  declined 
even  military  commands.  Clemens  of  Alexandria 
calls  his  Christian  contemporaries  the  "followers 
of  peace,"  and  expressly  tells  us  "  that  the  followers 
of  peace  used  none  of  the  implements  of  war."  Lac 
tantius  says  expressly,  "  It  can  never  be  lawful  for 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  163 

a  righteous  man  to  go  to  war."  About  the  end  of 
the  second  century,  Celsus,  one  of  the  opponents  of 
Christianity,  charged  the  Christians  with  refusing 
to  bear  arms  even  in  cases  of  necessity.  Origen, 
their  defender,  does  not  deny  the  fact ;  he  admits 
the  refusal,  and  justifies  it  on  the  ground  that  war 
is  unlawful  for  Christians.  Even  after  Christianity 
had  spread  over  almost  the  whole  known  world, 
Tertullian,  in  speaking  of  a  part  of  the  lloman  ar 
mies,  including  more  than  one-third  of  the  standing 
legions  of  Koine,  distinctly  informs  us  that  "  not  a 
Christian  could  be  found  amongst  them." 

All  this  is  explicit ;  but  the  following  facts  are 
still  more  decisive.  Some  of  the  arguments  which 
are  now  brought  against  the  advocates  of  peace, 
were  then  urged  against  those  early  Christians ; 
and  these  arguments  they  examined  and  repelled. 
This  indicates  investigation,  and  manifests  that 
their  belief  of  the  unlawfulness  of  war  was  not  a 
vague  opinion,  hastily  admitted,  and  loosely  float 
ing  amongst  them,  but  was  the  result  of  deliberate 
examination,  and  a  consequent  firm  conviction  that 
Christ  had  forbidden  it.  The  very  same  arguments 
that  are  brought  in  defence  of  war  at  the  present 
day,  were  brought  against  Christians  sixteen  hun 
dred  years  ago,  and  were  promptly  repelled  by 
them.  It  is  remarkable,  too,  that  Tertullian  appeals 
to  the  precepts  from  the  Mount  as  proving  that  the 
dispositions  which  these  precepts  inculcate,  are  not 
compatible  with  war,  and  that  the  custom  there 
fore  is  irreconcilable  with  Christianity. 

If  it  be  possible,  a  still  stronger  evidence  of  the 
primitive  belief  is  contained  in  the  circumstance, 
that  some  of  the  Christian  authors  regarded  the 
refusal  of  the  Christians  to  bear  arms,  as  a  fulfil 
ment  of  ancient  prophecy.  The  peculiar  strength 
of  this  evidence  consists  in  this,  tha*,  the  fact  of  a 


164  WAR    VIEWED    IN    THE 

refusal  to  bear  arras  is  assumed  as  notorious  and 
unquestioned.  Irengeus,  who  lived  about  the  year 
180,  affirms  that  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah,  which 
declares  that  men  shall  turn  their  swords  into 
ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into  pruning-hooks, 
had  been  fulfilled  in  his  time  ;  "for  the  Christians," 
says  he,  u  have  changed  their  swords  and  lances 
into  instruments  of,  peace,  and  they  know  not  how 
to  fight."  Justin  Martyr,  his  contemporary,  writes, 
"  that  the  prophecy  is  fulfilled,  you  have  good  rea 
son  to  believe  ;  for  we  who  in  times  past  killed  one 
another,  do  not  now  fight  with  our  enemies." 
Tertullian,  who  lived  later,  says,  "you  must  con 
fess  that  the  prophecy  has  been  accomplished  as 
far  as  the  practice  of  every  individual  is  concerned, 
to  whom  it  is  applicable." 

Take  a  few  cases  of  actual  martyrdom  to  this 
principle.  "  Maximilian,  as  related  in  the  Acts  of 
Kuinart,  was  brought  before  the  tribunal  to  be 
enrolled  as  a  soldier.  On  the  proconsul's  asking 
his  name,  Maximilian  replied,  'I  am  a  Christian, 
and  cannot  fight.'  It  was,  however,  ordered  that 
he  should  be  enrolled ;  but  he  refused  to  serve, 
still  alleging  that  he  was  a  Christian.  He  was 
immediately  told  that  there  was  no  alternative 
between  bearing  arms,  and  being  put  to  death. 
But  his  fidelity  was  not  to  be  shaken  ; — '  I  cannot 
fight,' said  he,  '  if  I  die.'  He  continued  steadfast 
to  his  principles,  and  was  consigned  to  the  execu 
tioner." 

The  primitive  Christians  when  already  enlisted, 
abandoned  the  profession  on  embracing  Chris 
tianity.  Marcellus  was  a  centurion  in  the  legion 
called  Trajana.  Whilst  holding  this  commission, 
he  became 'a  Christian  ;  and,  believing  in  common 
with  his  fellow-Christians,  that  war  was  no  longer 
permitted  to  him,  he  threw  down  his  belt  at  the 


LIGHT    OF    REVELATION.  165 

head  of  the  legion,  declaring  he  had  become  a 
Christian,  and  would  serve  no  longer.  He  was 
committed  to  prison  ;  but  he  was  still  faithful  to 
Christianity.  u  It  is  not  lawful,'7  said  he  u  for  a 
Christian  to  bear  arms  for  any  earthly  considera 
tion  ;"  and  he  was,  in  consequence,  put  to  death. 
Almost  immediately  afterwards,  Cassian,  notary  to 
the  same  legion,  gave  up  his  office.  He  steadfastly 
maintained  the  sentiments  of  Marcellus,  arid  like 
him  was  consigned  to  the  executioner.  Martin,  of 
whom  so  much  is  said  by  Sulpicius  Severus,  was 
bred  to  the  profession  of  arms,  which,  on  his  ac 
ceptance  of  Christianity,  he  abandoned.  To  Julian 
the  Apostate,  the  only  reason  that  we  find  he  gave 
for  his  conduct,  was  this,  "  I  am  a  Christian,  and 
therefore  I  cannot  fight."  Tarachus,  another  mili 
tary  man  and  martyr,  underwent  his  examination 
at  Tarsus  in  Cilicia.  Numerianus  Maxiinus  sat  as 
President.  "  What  is  your  condition  ?"  says  Maxi 
inus.  "  I  have  led  a  military  life,  and  am  a  Ro 
man  ;  but  because  I  am  a  Christian,  I  have  aban 
doned  my  profession  of  a  soldier}'1 

It  has  been  sometimes  said,  that  the  motive  which 
influenced  the  early  Christians  to  declare  war  un 
lawful  consisted  in  the  idolatry  connected  with  the 
lloinan  armies.  One  motive  this  idolatry  unques 
tionably  afforded  ;  but  it  is  obvious  from  the  quota 
tions  we  have  given,  that  their  belief  of  the  unlaw 
fulness  of  fighting,  independent  of  idolatry,  was  an 
insuperable  objection  to  engaging  in  war.  Their 
words  are  explicit :  "  I  cannot  fight,  if  I  die." — 
"I  am  a  Christian, and  therefore  I  cannot  fight." — 
"  Christ,"  says  Tertullian,  *'  by  disarming  Peter, 
disarmed  every  soldier  ;"  and  Peter  was  not  about 
to  fight  in  the  armies  of  idolatry.  So  entire  was 
their  conviction  of  the  incompatibility  of  war  with 
our  religion,  that  they  would  not  even  be  present 


166  WAR    AND    REVELATION. 

at  the  gladiatorial  fights,  "  lest,"  says  Theophilus, 
"we  should  become  partakers  of  the  murders  com- 
mitted  there."  Can  any  one  believe  that  they  who 
would  not  even  witness  a  battle  between  two  men, 
would  themselves  fight  in  a  battle  between  armies'? 
And  the  destruction  of  a  gladiator,  it  should  be 
remembered,  was  authorized  by  the  state,  as  much 
as  the  destruction  of  enemies  in  war." 

In  time,  however,  Christians  became  soldiers,  but 
not  till  they  degenerated  in  other  respects,  as  well  as 
in  this.  When  they  sank  into  a  general  conformity 
to  the  world  around  them  ;  when  they  began  "  to 
indulge  in  luxuries,  to  be  envious  and  quarrelsome, 
to  dissemble,  and  cheat,  and  falsify  their  word ;" 
when  they  scrupled  not  to  sit  at  meat  in  idolatrous 
temples,  and  aid  in  the  sacrifices  ;  when  the  manufac 
turers  of  idols  were  admitted  to  the  Christian  minis 
try,  and  Christians  filled  offices  in  the  pagan  priest 
hood  :  when  the  Church  became  thus  corrupt,  then 
she  lent  her  sanction  to  war,  and  her  members  be 
came  soldiers  without  scruple. 

This  degeneracy,  however,  was  not  suddenly  gen 
eral.  "  During  the  first  two  hundred  years,  not  a 
Christian  soldier  is  upon  record ;  but  in  the  third 
century,  when  Christianity  became  partially  cor 
rupted,  Christian  soldiers  were  common.  The  num 
ber  increased  with  the  increase  of  the  general  prof 
ligacy,  until  at  last,  in  the  fourth  century,  Chris 
tians  became  soldiers  without  hesitation,  and  the 
tenet  that  war  is  unlawful,  ceased  at  length  to  be  a 
tenet  of  the  Church." 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

SECTION  I. 

INFLUENCE  OF  WAR  UPON  INDIVIDUAL  AND  SOCIAL  CHARACTER, 

WE  have  already  given  facts  enough  to  prove  in 
general  the  bad  moral  influences  of  war  ;  but  we 
wish  still  further  to  show  how  it  sears  the  con 
science,  and  steels  the  heart,  sometimes  brutalizes 
the  whole  inner  man.  and  always  tends  to  debaso 
the  character  alike  of  individuals  and  communities, 

It  cannot  be  otherwise,  for  almost  everything 
about  war  tends  to  these  results.  The  rottenness 
of  its  principles,  the  essential  malignity  of  its  spirit, 
the  extreme  servility  of  its  discipline,  its  familiarity 
with  violence  and  blood,  its  intimacy  with  every 
species  of  vice,  its  release  from  nearly  all  moral  re 
straints,  its  low  estimate  of  social  and  civil  virtues, 
its  contempt  for  the  habits  and  acquisitions  of  hon 
est  industry,  its  wanton,  remorseless  violation  of 
others'  rights,  its  reckless  gratification  of  the  basest 
and  most  ferocious  passions,  its  claim  to  trample  at 
will  on  every  law  alike  of  man  and  of  God,  must  all 
conspire  with  fearful  efficacy  to  demoralize  the  ope 
rators  in  this  trade  of  human  butchery. 

Let  us  hear  the  warrior's  testimony  respecting  his 
own  profession.  "  If  there  is  one  method,"  says  a 
military  officer,  "  better  fitted  than  another  to  make 
a  man  an  abject  slave  to  the  will  of  his  superior, 
without  a  conscience  or  judgment  of  his  own  ;  one 
calculated  to  smother  every  generous  and  noble 


1G8         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

feeling,  to  destroy  his  morals  and  his  constitution, 
there  could  not  have  been  a  better  school  chosen 
than  the  army." 

There  is  a  kind  of  fatality  about  the  influence  of 
war  upon  its  own  agents.  It  seems  to  obscure  or 
destroy  their  moral  perceptions,  to  benumb  their 
consciences,  and  debase  their  feelings  and  habits. 
During  our  war  of  1812,  a  company  went  from  the 
capital  of  Vermont  to  the  relief  of  Plattsburgh.  Its 
commander,  subsequently  a  judge,  said  it  contained 
some  of  the  worthiest  men  in  the  town,  a  fair  ave 
rage  of  its  moral  character  ;  but  they  had  not  been 
three  days  in  the  service,  before  they  began  to  in 
dulge  freely  in  deeds  of  which  they  would  have 
been  ashamed  at  home,  nor  deemed  themselves  ca 
pable  of  such  degradation ! 

Nor  is  this  a  solitary  case.  "  I  know,"  said  a 
good  deacon,  "  too  much  about  war  to  feel  any  com 
placency  in  it ;  for,  when  a  young  man,  I  was  in  it. 
In  the  war  of  1812,  I  was  drafted,  and  sent  down 
upon  the  coast  (in  Massachusetts)  for  only  a  short 
time,  yet  long  enough  to  learn  more  of  war  than  I 
could  otherwise  have  believed  possible.  I  did  not, 
indeed,  fall  a  victim  myself;  but  multitudes  around 
me  did,  and  I  was  saved  only  by  the  skin  of  my 
teetL,  My  mother  told  me,  as  I  left  home,  not  to 
drink,  and  all  would  be  well.  I  heeded  her,  and 
that  alone  saved  me ;  but  I  saw  what  a  dreadfully 
demoralizing  influence  the  service  has  upon  sol 
diers."  Equally  strong  was  the  testimony  of  a 
Presbyterian  elder  :  "  In  our  last  war,"  said  he,  "  I 
took  the  command  of  a  company  from  Albany.  It 
was  a  picked  band,  all  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  or  the 
vigor  of  manhood,  the  very  flower  of  the  city.  We 
were  out  only  three  months  without  once  seeing  the 
enemy ;  but,  though  only  on  camp  duty,  the  men 
were  half  spoiled.  Had  we  continued  six  months. 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.         169 

It  seems  to  me  they  must  nearly  all  have  been 
ruined." 

In  the  same  war,  Plattsburgh  was  an  encamp 
ment  for  years ;  and,  as  one  illustration  of  its  in 
fluence  on  character,  the  wife  of  a  pious  physician 
there  related  the  case  of  a  young  man,  naturally 
amiable,  and  religiously  educated,  whom  the  service 
had  converted  into  a  kind  of  monster.  He  con 
fessed  the  change  himself.  '  I  am.'  said  he,  '  the 
son  of  pious  parents  ;  but  I  care  not  now  for  any 
thing  they  taught  me.  I  was  trained  to  reverence 
Grod  and  his  Sabbath ;  but  now  I  can  trample  with 
out  remorse  on  his  name  and  his  day.  Once  I  was 
so  tender-hearted  I  could  not  bear  to  see  a  lamb  or 
an  ox  slaughtered ;  but  now  the  sight  of  a  whole 
regiment  weltering  in  their  own  blood,  would  scarce 
ly  move  me.  Once  I  could  not  stay  in  a  room  where 
there  was  a  corpse  ;  but  now  I  could  go  into  my  tent 
with  half  a  dozen  of  my  comrades  lying  there  dead, 
and,  pillowing  my  head  upon  one  of  them,  could 
sleep  as  sweetly  as  ever.' 

Mark  the  emphatic  language  of  a  Frenchman  re 
specting  his  brethren  in  arms.  ';  The  soldier,"  says 
Miot,  "  abandons  himself  to  all  the  fury  which  an 
assault  authorizes.  He  strikes,  he  slays  ;  nothing 
can  impede  him  ;  and  everywhere  the  desire  of  pil 
lage  makes  him  brave  danger,  and  forget  his  wounds. 
All  the  horrors  of  the  general  storm  are  repeated 
in  every  street,  in  every  house.  You  hear  the  cries 
of  violated  females,  calling  in  vain  for  help  to  those 
relatives  whom  the  soldiers  are  butchering.  No 
asylum  is  respected.  The  blood  streams  on  every 
side,  and,  at  every  step,  you  meet  with  human 
beings  groaning  and  expiring  ;  but  the  soldier  is 
restrained  only  by  weariness  of  slaughter,  or  the 
necessity  of  securing  his  plunder." 

Such  habits  must  of  course  sear  the  conscience, 
15 


170        MALIGN   MORAL   INFLUENCES   OF   WAR. 

and  brutalize  the  heart.  "  Yesterday,"  says  Denon 
in  Egypt,  "  I  was  in  the  company  of  warriors 
whose  qualities  I  admired  ;  to  day  I  attended  their 
funeral,  and  to-morrow  shall  abandon  their  remains 
on  a  straDge  soil.  Just  now  a  young  man  was  at 
tacked  ;  I  saw  him  fall,  and  heard  his  accents  of 
grief  succeeding  his  valorous  impetuosity.  He 
called  in  vain  for  succor ;  and,  as  he  dragged  him 
self  along,  his  cartridges  exploded,  and  horribly 
mutilated  his  limbs  and  body.  I  saw  him  expire ; 
and  to-morrow  the  post  he  held,  will  console  for  his 
loss  the  companion  by  whom  he  is  to  be  succeeded." 
"  A  grand  list  of  promotions  !"  exclaimed  an  Eng 
lish  officer,  on  hearing  of  a  sanguinary  battle. 
"  Ah  !  my  brother,"  said  an  inferior  officer  in  the 
American  Revolution,  to  his  own  brother,  a  colonel 
of  the  same  regiment,  as  he  lay  wounded  near  his 
heart,  and  his  horse  dead  by  his  side,  "  One  inch 
nearer,  my  brother,  and  I  should  have  had  your  reg 
iment  !"  The  infection  of  this  barbarity  diffuses  it. 
self  even  into  society.  "  What  a  pity,"  exclaimed 
a  well-educated  girl  in  her  teens,  "  we  could  not 
have  had  a  war  with  France  !  (1835)  there  are  so 
many  cadets  and  midshipmen  waiting  for  promo 
tion  !» 

The  soldier's  life  is  a  tissue  of  such  savage  de 
velopments.  "  At  the  siege  of  Lerida,"  says  Count 
de  Bussy,  u  a  company  of  us,  all  intimate  friends, 
fell  one  day  to  drinking  and  singing  after  dinner. 
In  the  height  of  our  jollity,  the  Chevalier  de 
Valiere  was  called  to  give  some  instructions  con 
cerning  certain  works  then  in  progress,  and  left  us 
for  half  an  hour.  In  less  than  fifteen  minutes,  his 
servant  came  crying  out,  '  my  master  is  dead !'  And 
so  it  was  ;  for,  while  walking  along  the  trenches, 
and  scorning  to  show  more  caution  than  his  com? 
panion,  he  was  knocked  on  the  head  by  a  musket* 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF   WAR.          171 

ball.  We  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a  mo 
ment  ;  and  then  the  songs  and  glasses  went  round 
as  briskly  as  if  nothing  had  happened  !"  "  We 
pitied  our  comrades  when  wounded,"  says  Rocca  in 
Spain  ;  "  but  when  once  they  had  ceased  to  live, 
the  indifference  shown  them  amounted  almost  to 
irony.  When  the  soldiers  passing  by,  recognized 
one  of  their  companions  stretched  among  the  dead, 
they  just  said,  '  he  is  in  want  of  nothing  now  ; — 
he'll  not  have  his  horse  to  abuse  again  ; — he  has 
got  drunk  for  the  last  time.' "  "  A  poor  French 
soldier  in  Egypt  was  attacked  with  the  plague ; 
and,  as  he  saw  the  army  starting  to  leave  him,  and 
felt  the  venom  of  that  dreadful  malady  circulating 
in  his  veins,  he  made  a  last  desperate  effort  to  rise, 
staggered  a  few  steps,  and  then  fell  headlong  on  the 
sand.  He  rose  a  second  and  a  third  time,  writhing 
in  strange  contortions,  and  staring  wildly  in  terror 
and  despair.  His  comrades  only  ran  from  him,  as 
from  the  plague,  and,  turning  round,  burst,  like  a 
set  of  drunken  revellers,  into  roars  of  laughter  at 
his  odd  motions  ;  and,  as  he  sank  to  rise  no  more, 
(  he  has  got  his  last  account !'  shouted  one  ;  4  he'll 
not  march  far !'  cried  a  second ;  while  others  ex 
claimed.  c  see,  he  has  taken  up  his  last  quarters  !'  It 
is  a  terrible  truth,"  adds  Miot,  "  that  indifference 
and  selfishness  are  the  predominant  traits  of  an 
army." 

Napoleon's  campaign  in  Eussia  was  a  horrible 
commentary  on  this  tendency  of  war.  "Its  hor 
rors,"  says  Labaume,  "  so  far  from  exciting  our  sen 
sibility,  only  hardened  our  hearts.  Having  no 
longer  the  power  of  exercising  our  cruelty  on  our 
enemies,  we  turned  it  on  each  other.  The  best 
friends  were  estranged  ;  and  whoever  experienced 
the  least  sickness,  was  certain  of  never  seeing  his 
country  again,  unless  he  had  good  horses  and  faith- 


172         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

ful  servants.  Preserving  the  plunder  of  Moscaw 
was  preferred  by  most  to  the  pleasure  of  saving  a 
comrade.  We  heard  around  us  the  groans  of  the 
dying,  and  the  plaintive  voice  of  those  who  were 
abandoned  ;  but  all  were  deaf  to  their  cries,  and,  if 
any  one  approached  them  when  on  the  point  of 
death,  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  stripping  them, 
and  searching  whether  they  had  any  remains  of 
food.  Whenever  a  soldier  sunk  from  fatigue,  his 
next  neighbor  rushed  on  him,  and  stripped  him 
of  his  clothes,  even  before  he  was  dead.  Every 
moment  we  heard  them  begging  the  aid  of  some 
charitable  hand.  *  My  comrades,'  exclaimed  one 
with  a  heart-rending  voice,  '  help  me  to  rise  ;  deign 
to  lend  me  a  hand  to  pursue  my  march.'  All 
passed  by  without  even  regarding  him.  '  Ah,  I 
conjure  you  not  to  abandon  me  to  the  enemy  ;  in  the 
name  of  humanity  grant  me  the  trifling  assistance 
I  ask  ;  help  me  to  rise.'  Instead  of  being  moved 
by  a  prayer  so  touching,  they  considered  him  as  al 
ready  dead,  and  began  to  strip  him ;  and  then  we 
heard  his  cries,  '  Hep !  help  !  they  murder  me  ! 
Why  do  you  trample  me  under  your  feet'?  Why 
do  you  take  from  me  the  remainder  of  my  money 
and  my  bread?  You  even  take  away  my  clothes  !3 
If  some  officer,  urged  by  generous  feeling,  did  not 
arrive  in  time  to  prevent  it,  many  in  the  like  situa 
tion  would  have  been  assassinated  by  their  own 
comrades." 

We  cannot  wonder  at  such  results ;  for  the  gov 
ernment  in  war  lends  its  high  sanction  to  deeds  that 
would  in  individuals  be  deemed  worthy  of  the  prison 
and  the  scaffold.  War  is  the  very  anarchy  and 
carnival  of  crime.  It  teaches,  for  instance,  the 
worst  forms  of  robbery.  u  A  man  who  rushes  to  the 
highway  to  rob,  maddened  by  the  sight  of  a  fam 
ished  family,  may  plead  powerful  temptation  j  but 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR,          173 

armies  rob,  burn  and  destroy  in  the  coolest  malice. 
See  a  file  of  men,  well  fed  and  well  clothed  by  a 
great  and  powerful  nation,  proceed  on  a  foraging 
party.  They  enter  a  retired  vale,  where  a  peaceful 
old  man,  by  hard-handed  toil,  supports  his  humble 
family.  The  officer  coolly  points  with. his  sword  to 
the  few  stacks  of  hay  and  grain  laid  up  for  winter. 
Remonstrances  are  vain — tears  are  vain.  They 
bear  off  his  only  supply,  take  his  cow,  his  pet  lamb, 
add  insult  to  oppression,  and  leave  the  ruined  fam 
ily  to  an  almshouse  or  starvation.  Nor  is  the  seiz 
ure  or  destruction  of  public  stores  any  the  less  rob 
bery.  A  nation  has  no  more  right  to  steal  from  a 
nation,  than  an  individual  has  to  steal  from  an  in 
dividual.  In  principle,  the  act  is  the  same;  in 
magnitude,  the  sin  is  greater,  for  all  the  private 
robberies  in  a  thousand  years,  are  not  a  tithe  of  the 
robberies  of  one  war.  In  one  of  the  Punic  wars, 
Carthage,  with  100,000  houses,  was  burnt  and  de 
stroyed,  so  that  not  a  house  remained ;  and  the 
plunder  carried  away  by  the  Romans  in  precious 
metals  and  jewels  alone,  is  reported  to  have  been 
eojual  to  five  million  pounds  of  silver.  Who  can 
compute  the  number  of  similar  events,  from  the  de 
struction  of  Jerusalem  to  that  of  Moscow  ?  A  great 
part  also  of  the  private  robberies  in  Christendom, 
may  be  traced  to  the  deterioration  of  morals  caused 
by  war.  Thousands  of  pirates  received  their  infa 
mous  education  in  national  ships.  Thousands  of 
thieves  were  disbanded  soldiers.  War  taught  these 
men  to  disregard  the  rights  of  property,  to  trample 
upon  justice,  and  refuse  mercy;  and  even  if  dis 
posed  to  honest  labor,  which  a  military  life  always 
tends  to  render  unpalatable,  the  disbanded  soldier 
often  finds  himself  unable  to  obtain  employment, 
and  is  thus  compelled  to  steal  or  starve."  So  well 
is  this  understood  in  the  old  world,  that  a  veteran 
15* 


174          MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

regiment  there  is  seldom  disbanded  at  home,  lest 
they  should  turn  highwaymen. 

No  war  is  exempt  from  such  results.  Our  own 
revolutionary  struggle,  though  elevated  far  above 
most  wars,  not  only  by  the  justness  of  its  cause,  but 
by  the  general  excellence  of  the  men  who  fought  its 
battles,  nevertheless  confessedly  left  a  blighting  in 
fluence  upon  the  character  of  the  nation.  Wash 
ington  himself  complained,  "  Our  conflict  is  not 
likely  to  cease  so  soon  as  every  good  man  could 
wish.  The  measure  of  our  iniquity  is  not  yet  full ; 
for  speculation,  peculation,  engrossing,  forestalling, 
with  all  their  concomitants,  afford  too  many  proofs 
of  the  decay  of  public  virtue,  and  too  glaring  instances 
of  its  being  the  interest  and  desire  of  too  many  who 
would  be  thought  friends,  to  continue  the  war!" 
a  Such  a  spirit  of  avarice  and  peculation,"  says  one 
of  our  own  historians,  "  had  crept  into  the  public 
departments,  and  taken  a  deep  hold  of  the  majority 
of  the  people,  as  Americans  a  few  years  before  were 
thought  incapable  of."  This  was  the  effect  of  the 
war.  "  There  sprang  up.  during  the  war,"  says  an 
other,  "  a  race  of  men  who  sought  to  make  private 
advantage  out  of  the  public  distress.  This  public 
pest  spread  wider  every  day,  and  finally  gangrened 
the  very  heart  of  the  state."  Such  men  as  Franklin, 
Adams,  and  others  uttered  similar  complaints ;  and 
Congress  itself,  writing  to  its  commissioners  in 
France,  said,  "  There  is  scarce  an  officer,  civil  or 
military,  but  that  feels  something  of  a  desire  to  be 
engaged  in  mercantile  speculation ;  we  are  almost  a 
continental  tribe  of  Jews." 

The  Christians  of  that  day  took  a  still  more  seri 
ous  view  of  the  case.  A  Presbytery  in  New  Eng 
land,  all  friends  of  the  war  itself,  published  a  vol 
ume  to  illustrate  and  arrest  its  malign  influences 
upon  the  moral  character  of  the  community.  They 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.         175 

specify  the  vices  and  sins  that  had  become  most 
prevalent.  "  The  profanest  language,"  say  they, 
"  is  become  the  fashionable  dialect.  The  youth,  that 
was  bred  in  innocence,  and  was  never  heard  to  de 
file  his  tongue  with  one  profane  oath  in  his  life,  no 
sooner  gets  on  board  a  privateer,  or  has  spent  a  few 
days  in  a  camp,  than  we  find  him  learned  in  all  the 
language  of  hell !  The  most  horrid  oaths  and  infer 
nal  curses  load  and  taint  the  air  about  him.  And 
this  language  passes  current  as  graces  of  conversa 
tion,  as  a  polish  of  style  that  should  suffice  to  dub 
him  a  fine  gentlemen  !" 

Corruption,  fraud  and  cruelty  grew  apace.  "  Be 
nevolence  to  our  fellow-men,"  say  they,  "  was  per 
haps  never  less  cultivated  in  any  country,  than  of 
late  among  us.  Hard-hearted  indifference  to  the 
distress  of  the  poor,  the  widow,  and  the  orphan,  has 
risen  up,  and  seized  her  throne.  The  base-born 
spirit  of  selfishness  never  had  so  unrestrained  sway 
in  this  land.  This  has  cut  out  work  for  all  the 
passions,  and  kept  them  in  constant  employ.  Pride 
and  false  honor  have  disgraced  our  armies  with  the 
barbarous  practice  of  duelling,  and  friends  have  im 
brued  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  friends,  while  the 
connivance  of  superiors  has  given  sanction  to  the 
crime.  Avarice  stalks  in  the  streets,  or  lurks  in 
the  corners,  and  has  stained  the  public  roads  with 
inhuman  murders.  Avarice  and  extortion  were 
never  carried  here  to  such  lengths.  Fraud  and  op 
pression  sweep  all  before  them ;  while  debauchery 
and  vice  fill  both  town  and  country.  Glaring  in 
stances  of  peculation,  and  breach  of  public  trust, 
are  sheltered  and  uncensured  ;  and  private  robbery, 
thefts,  and  burglaries  abound  more  and  more." 

"  Intemperance,  also,  is  become  sadly  common 
among  us  men  ;  and  this  monster,  not  content 
with  human  sacrifices  among  the  men?  and  with 


176         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES   OF   WAR. 

making  shipwreck  of  many  professors  of  religion 
too,  has  begun  to  ravage  and  destroy  even  the 
gentler  sex  !'7  It  is  well  known  that  the  war  of 
our  revolution  was  the  starting  point,  the  great 
fountain  of  our  national  intemperance. 

Licentiousness,  however,  was  perhaps  the  foulest 
offshoot  of  the  war.  "  It  is  well  known,"  say  these 
men,  who  admired  the  war  evon  while  deploring  so 
many  of  its  evil  results,  "  that  this  period  never  had 
its  parallel  in  America  for  the  prevalence  of  all  the 
vices  of  sensuality.  Uncleanness  is  awfully  in 
creased  ;  ante-nuptial  fornications  are  so  frequent, 
and  so  slightly  censured,  that  it  has  almost  ceased 
to  be  regarded  as  a  crime  ;  adulteries  are  excused 
under  the  name  of  gallantries ;  books  utterly  unfit 
for  a  modest  eye,  are  published  avowedly  on  pur 
pose  to  teach  intrigue  as  a  science  ;  and  the  poison 
ous  letters  of  a  British  nobleman  are  eagerly 
bought  up,  read  and  commended  as  a  standard  of 
politeness  and  true  taste,  though  the  direct  tend 
ency  is  to  patronize  lewdness,  and  make  the  world 
forget  that  chastity  is  a  virtue." 

The  influence  of  the  war-system  even  in  peace  is 
extremely  pernicious  to  good  morals.  It  was  of 
ficially  stated  in  the  British  Parliament,  that  of  the 
soldiers  stationed  in  the  United  Kingdom,  one  in 
twenty  annually  passes  through  the  public  jails  ; 
while  of  the  general  population,  including  the 
army  itself,  there  is  but  one  to  five  hundred — more 
than  twenty-five  to  one  in  favor  of  civil  life !  It 
would  appear  from  other  official  disclosures,  that 
the  army  and  navy  of  England  are  vast  nurseries 
of  intemperance  ;  for  a  high  officer  a  few  years  ago 
testified,  "  that  nine  tenths  of  the  murders,  and 
other  crimes  of  great  enormity,  committed  by  Brit 
ish  soldiers  in  India,  are  induced  by  drunkenness, 
and  that  generally  the  crimes  for  which  men  are 


MALIGN    MORAL   INFLUENCES   OF    WAR.          177 

flogged  in   the   army,   originate    from    the    same 
cause." 

The  demoralizing  influence  even  of  our  own  mi 
litia  drills  has  long  been  notorious  to  a  proverb.  It 
has  been  a  source  of  general  corruption  to  the 
community,  and  formed  habits  of  idleness,  dissipa 
tion  and  profligacy.  It  has  done  a  great  deal  to 
flood  our  land  with  intemperance ;  and  muster- 
fields  have  generally  been  scenes  or  occasions  of 
gambling,  licentiousness,  and  almost  every  vice. 
The  history  of  our  militia  drills  is  a  tissue  of  such 
facts.  In  answer  to  inquiries  made  by  our  General 
Government  in  1826,  the  highest  officers  of  the 
militia  in  different  sections  of  the  country  repre 
sented  i  militia  musters  as  prejudicial  to  the  morals 
of  the  community  ;  as  assemblies  of  idle  and  dis 
sipated  persons  ;  as  making  idlers  and  drunkards 
rather  than  soldiers ;  as  attended,  under  the  most 
favorable  circumstances,  with  riot,  drunkenness,  and 
every  species  of  immorality ;  as  always  scenes  of 
the  lowest  and  most  destructive  dissipation,  where 
nothing  was  acquired  but  the  most  pernicious  hab 
its.'  Nor  has  the  progress  of  temperance  cured 
these  evils ;  for  they  are  well-nLjh  inseparable  from 
any  part  of  the  war-system.  An  eye-witness  of  a 
New  England  'training,  so  late  as  1845,  says, 
"  beastly  drunkenness,  and  other  immoralities,  were 
enough  to  make  good  men  shudder  at  the  very 
name  of  a  muster.  Never,  on  any  occasion,  have  I 
seen  so  many  rational  beings  turned  by  the  power 
of  rum,  into  babbling  idiots  and  fierce  madmen. 
More  than  one  of  these  wretches  I  saw  stretched 
out  by  the  roadside,  retaining  only  the  power  to 
utter  the  rude  oath  or  obscene  jest,  and  exhibiting 
a  spectacle  of  loathsome  degradation,  which  might 
well  make  the  very  beasts  of  the  field  bellow." 


178         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF   WAR. 


SECTION   II. 
INFLUENCE    OF    WAR    ON    SOCIAL    INSTITUTIONS. 

MAN  was  made  for  society ;  and  society,  so  essen 
tial  to  his  improvement  and  well-being,  rests  for 
support  mainly  on  the  domestic  constitution,  on  public 
worship,  and  civil  government.  These  are  each  co 
eval  with  our  race,  the  divinely  appointed  guardians 
of  man's  welfare,  and  the  chief  handmaids  to  his 
happiness,  both  here  and  hereafter. 

Now,  mark  the  influence  of  war  upon  these  cen 
tral,  indispensable  institutions  of  society.  It  is  a 
deadly  foe  to  the  hearth.  It  sports  with  the  sym 
pathies  of  home,  rudely  sunders  its  most  sacred 
bonds,  and  fiercely  tramples  in  the  dust  all  its  vir 
tues  and  all  its  interests.  It  takes  the  brother 
from  his  sisters,  and  the  son  from  his  parents,  the 
husband  from  his  wife,  and  the  father  from  his 
children ;  nor  can  its  operation  be  carried  on  with 
out  a  wide  and  fearful  amount  of  domestic  misery. 
It  forbids  marriage  to  most  of  its  agents,  and  thus 
prevents  the  rise  of  families  as  incompatible  with 
their  vagrant  trade  of  blood.  Its  very  breath  taints 
the  pure  and  balmy  atmosphere  of  home.  It  pan 
ders  to  vices,  arid  forms  habits,  that  are  fatal  to  do 
mestic  happiness.  It  tends  to  overwhelm,  or  un 
dermine,  or  rot  down  in  the  slime  and  stench  of  its 
own  impurity,  that  domestic  constitution  which  God 
established  in  Eden,  as  the  basis  of  whatever  is 
good  or  great,  useful  or  happy,  on  earth.  Review 
the  entire  history  of  war ;  and  you  will  find  it  a 
perpetual  crusade  against  this  elementary  and  es 
sential  institution  of  society.  Let  every  family  on 
earth  engage  in  war  for  fifty  years  in  succession  ; 
and  it  would  extinguish  nearly  all  the  hearth-fires 


MALIGN   MORAL    INFLUENCES   OF   WAR.          179 

tff  the  world,  and  well-nigh  exterminate  the  whole 
human  race. 

The  worship  of  God,  equally  indispensable  to1 
the  welfare  of  individuals  and  society,  depends 
almost  entirely  on  the  Sabbath,  or  the  consecration 
of  some  specified  time  to  religious  services.  Here 
is  its  essence.  We  insist  only  on  this  principle ; 
for  the  devout  Quaker  who  discards  the  Sabbath 
as  an  institution,  still  has  his  stated  periods  for  the 
worship  of  God,  and  thus  secures  to  himself  a  Sab 
bath  as  truly  as  any  Puritan  ever  did.  In  this 
sense  the  Sabbath  is  the  sheet-anchor  of  religion 
and  good  morals.  All  experience  prows  it  so  ;  for 
France  tried  to  do  without  it,  and  plunged  at  once 
into  atheism,  anarchy,  and  a  sea  of  vices  and  crimes. 
It  is  the  nurse  and  guardian  of  intelligence,  and 
piety,  and  virtue,  and  good  order,  and  general 
prosperity.  It  is  the  hinge  of  God's  moral  govern 
ment  over  our  world,  and  the  main-spring  or  pivot 
of  all  the  instrumentalities  employed  or  appointed 
for  the  salvation  of  mankind. 

War,  however,  cannot  respect  the  Sabbath.  The 
common  routine  of  the  camp  forbids  it ;  and  extra 
duties  are  generally  assigned  to  this  day.  '  Even 
when  the  army  is  not  present,  the  heavy  trains  of 
the  commissary  must  move  on  ;  the  arsenal  and  the 
ship-yard  must  maintain  their  activity ;  and  innu 
merable  mechanics,  watermen  and  laborers,  must 
be  kept  busy.  During  our  late  war  with  England, 
who  did  not  witness  on  all  our  frontiers  the  general 
desecration  of  the  holy  day  ?  Men  swarmed  like 
ants  on  a  mole  hill,  to  throw  up  intrenchments ; 
the  wharves  resounded  with  the  din  of  business ;  and 
idlers  forsook  the  house  of  God  to  gaze  upon  the 
scenes  of  preparation.'  War  knows  no  Sabbath. 
Its  battles  are  fought,  its  inarches  continued,  its 


180         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF  WAR. 

fortifications  constructed,  its  drills  performed,  all 
its  labors  exacted,  all  its  recreations  indulged  on 
this,  even  more  than  any  other  day  of  the  week, 
The  battle  of  Waterloo,  like  a  multitude  of  others, 
was  fought  without  scruple  on  the  Sabbath ;  and 
even  Christians  among  ourselves  have  been  heard 
to  say,  '  there  is  no  Sabbath  in  times  of  war.'  Nor 
indeed  is  there  any  Sabbath  for  soldiers  even  in  a 
time  of  peace ;  for  all  over  Europe,  even  in  our 
own  army,  is  the  Sabbatli  the  chosen  time  for  spe 
cial  and  splendid  reviews.  Soldiers  are  absolutely 
compelled  to  trample  under  foot  this  day  of  God ; 
and  their  example,  backed  by  men  in  power,  and 
justified  by  the  best  members  of  society,  as  the 
necessary  privilege  of  war,  must  in  time  unclinch 
the  hold  of  the  Sabbath  upon  the  conscience,  heart 
and  habits  of  any  community.  Even  the  sons  of 
the  Puritans  are  not  proof  against  influences  like 
these ;  for  the  Sabbath  of  New  England  itself  has 
received  from  three  wars, — the  French,  the  Revolu 
tionary,  and  the  last, — a  shock  from  which  only  the 
millennium  can  ever  restore  it  to  the  sanctity  and 
moral  power  which  it  had  in  the  days  of  our  fathers. 
Let  us  on  this  point  take  a  few  facts  from  our 
revolutionary  war.  "  The  holy  Sabbath,"  say  good 
men  on  the  spot  at  the  time,  u  is  grown  into  such 
contempt,  that  all  the  force  of  civil  laws  can  scarcely 
suffice  to  preserve  even  the  appearance  of  regard 
for  it.  IN  ever  was  the  public  worship  of  God  so 
generally  voted  away  as  at  the  present.  Many, 
grudging  the  expense  of  supporting  it,  have  dis 
missed  God's  ambassadors,  and  locked  up  the  doors 
of  his  house.  The  regular  churches  through  the 
land  have  suffered  sorely  from  the  common  storm ; 
and  in  New  England  the  houses  of  God,  wherever 
the  British  army  went,  became  the  prime  butt  of 
their  vengeance.  Some  were  turned  into  stables, 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF   WAR.         181 

gome  into  riding-houses,  some  consumed  with 
flames,  and  some  razed  to  the  foundation.  Of 
those  which  remained,  not  a  few  were  shut  by  the 
death  or  removal  of  the  pastors,  and  many  deserted 
by  the  dispersion  of  the  congregations  that  used  to 
worship  in  them.  How  often  is  the  pious  eye  now 
(near  the  close  of  the  war)  shocked  at  the  sight  of 
men  hurrying  away  the  most  precious  moments  of 
the  Lord's  day  in  sending  vessels  to  sea,  in  begin 
ning  or  pursuing  journeys  or  worldly  business,  or 
wasting  that  holy  season  in  indolence  at  home,  or 
impertinent  visits,  or  idle  walks  about  the  wharves, 
streets  or  fields.  How  many  there  are  that  habitu 
ally  combine  to  kill  the  time  on  that  sacred  day,  in 
coffee-houses  and  sots'  holes,  in  bargains  or  news, 
in  gaming  or  intemperance.  And  if  such  outrages 
against  God  and  religion  are  called  in  question, 
the  answer  in  almost  every  mouth  is  ready — '/is 
war  times" 

Mark,  also,  the  influence  of  war  upon  civil  gov 
ernment.  It  is  claimed  as  the  support  of  govern 
ment  ;  but  has  war  been  wont  to  sustain  any  other 
than  arbitrary,  despotic  rule  ?  In  every  age  and 
clime  has  it  been  the  origin  and  chief  support  of 
oppression  in  all  its  forms.  You  cannot  find  in  all 
history  a  despotism  that  did  not  originate  in  war, 
and  rely  upon  the  sword  for  the  continuance  of  its 
power  over  the  people.  What  gave  rise  to  slavery 
and  the  slave-trade  ?  What  stabbed  the  liberties 
of  Greece  and  Rome  ?  What  has  proved  the  ruin 
of  nearly  all  republics  ?  War.  Look  at  Greece 
under  Philip,  at  Rome  under  Caesar,  at  France 
under  Napoleon,  at  nearly  all  the  republics  south 
of  us,  where  freedom  is  little  else  than  a  foot-ball 
bandied  in  blood  through  the  land  by  military 
chieftains. 

16 


182         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAS. 

Nor  can  we  wonder  at  this  ;  for  the  spirit  and 
the  principles  of  war  are  thoroughly  despotic. 
"  The  discipline  and  the  customs  of  the  camp,"  says 
Channing,  "  are  the  confines  of  the  slave.  What 
is  the  liberty  of  a  soldier  ?  An  iron  discipline. 
In  the  case  of  an  offence,  how  is  he  to  be  tried  1 
Not  by  a  jury  of  his  peers,  but  by  the  stern  rules 
of  a  court  martial."  What  is  a  soldier?  A  mere 
tool  of  arbitrary  power  !  "  one  who  yields,"  says  a 
distinguished  officer,  "  implicit  obedience  to  all 
commands,  who  regards  no  law  but  the  will  of  his 
superiors,  and  never  scruples  to  do  whatever  is  re 
quired  of  him."  So  we  find  it  in  fact.  A  British 
officer,  when  marching  a  detachment  to  attack  a 
fortification  in  Spain,  strictly  charged  them  not  to 
fire.  '-What  then  shall  we  do?"  asked  one  of 
them.  "  Turn  the  corner  of  yonder  wall,"  replied 
the  officer,  "  and  stab  with  your  bayonet  every  mail 
you  meet."  And  this  has  been  admired  as  a  fin 
specimen  of  military  discipline  ! 

Let  us  quote  some  high  testimonies  on  this  point. 
"  With  war,"  says  Ex-President  Adams.  "  conies  a 
full  and  plenary  power  over  the  whole  subject  even 
of  slavery.  It  is  a  war  power ;  and,  when  your 
country  is  actually  in  war,  whether  it  be  a  war  of 
invasion,  or  a  war  of  insurrection,  Congress  has 
power  to  carry  it  on,  and  must  carry  it  on  accord 
ing  to  the  laws  of  war  ;  and  by  those  laws  an  in 
vaded  country  has  all  its  laws  and  institutions 
swept  by  the  board,  and  martial  law  takes  the 
place  of  them."  The  venerable  statesman  quoted 
the  conduct  of  Gen.  Jackson  to  confirm  his  positions; 
and  two  of  our  commanders  (Sloat  and  Kearney)  in 
the  war  with  Mexico  added  to  our  republic  territory 
enough  for  an  empire  twice  as  large  as  France,  and 
erected  therein  a  civil  government,  all  by  a  mere 
word  in  the  exercise  of  the  war-power.  It  was  an 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.          183 

aot  of  sheer  despotism,  but  did  not  nevertheless 
transcend  the  powers  essential  to  the  war-system. 

"  It  has  been,"  says  Franklin,  "  a  generally  re 
ceived  opinion,  that  a  military  man  is  not  to  inquire 
whether  a  war  be  just  or  unjust:  he  is  to  execute 
his  orders  !  All  princes  that  are  disposed  to  be 
come  tyrants,  must  probably  approve  of  this  opin 
ion  ;  but  is  it  not  a  dangerous  one?  On  this 
principle,"  essential  to  the  war  system,  "  if  the 
tyrant  commands  hist  army  to  attack  and  destroy, 
not  only  an  unoffending  neighbor  nation,  but  even 
his  own  subjects,  his  army  is  bound  to  obey.  A 
negro  slave  in  our  colonies,  being  commanded  by 
his  master  to  rob  or  murder  a  neighbor,  or  do  any 
other  immoral  act,  may  refuse,  and  the  magistrate 
will  protect  him  in  his  refusal.  The  slavery  of  a 
soldier  then  is  worse  than  that  of  a  negro}"1 

General  Wilkinson,  an  officer  in  the  war  of  1812, 
says,  '  a  dupe  during  my  whole  life  to  the  preju 
dices  I  now  reprobate,  I  warn  my  country  against 
military  enthusiasm,  and  the  pride  of  arms,  by 
which  the  yeomanry,  the  palladium  of  the  republic, 
are  depreciated,  and  standing  armies  and  navies  are 
encouraged.  Who  would  exchange  the  blessings  of 
freedom  for  the  repute  of  having  eclipsed  the  whole 
human  race  in  feats  of  valor?  This  is  a  serious 
question  ;  it  affects  the  vital  interest  of  every  free 
man  ;  and  we  should  pause  arid  reflect  before  it  is 
too  late.  We  have  escaped  from  one  war,  with  a 
crippled  constitution  ;  the  next  will  probably  de 
stroy  it ;  therefore,  let  the  motto  of  the  state  be — • 
PEACE." 

Peace  is  essential  to  our  prosperous  or  permanent 
freedom.  Almost  every  other  republic  in  the  world 
has  fallen  a  victim  to  war ;  and,  if  our  liberties  are 
ever  lost,  they  too  will,  in  like  manner,  be  cloven 
down  by  the  sword.  The  soldiers  even  of  Wash- 


>J84        MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF   WAR. 

ington  urged  him.  in  a  moment  of  passion,  to  as 
sume  the  sceptre ;  had  he  been  almost  any  other 
man,  he  would  have  seized  the  occasion,  to  raise 
for  himself  a  throne  upon  the  ruins  of  our  nascent 
freedom  ;  and  though  that  incomparable  man  spurn 
ed  the  offer,  yet  must  war,  once  become  either  ha 
bitual  or  frequent,  bring  on,  sooner  or  later,  such 
exigencies  as  will  leave  us  at  the  mercy  of  some 
future  Cesar  or  Napoleon. 

Weil  has  Judge  Jay  said^"  war  has  always  been 
adverse  to  political  freedom.  A  Roman  statesman 
declared,  that '  laws  are  silent  in  the  midst  of  arms  ;' 
and  the  experience  of  ages  has  converted  the  words 
into  a  proverb.  Civil  liberty  requires  the  substitu 
tion  of  laws  for  the  will  of  the  ruler;  but  in  war, 
the  will  of  the  ruler  becomes  the  source  of  legiti 
mate  authority,  and  the  bulwarks  erected  around 
civil  rights,  are  all  levelled  on  the  proclamation  of 
martial  law.  Constitutional  liberty  is  often  sacri 
ficed  to  the  policy  of  war,  and  almost  every  cam 
paign  produces  its  dictator.  Few  men  have  ever 
been  more  jealous  of  encroachments  on  their  rights 
than  the  fathers  of  the  American  Revolution  ;  yet 
were  they  frequently  induced  by  the  exigencies  of 
the  war  to  submit  to  the  most  despotic  measures. 
At  one  period,  no  citizen  of  New  York  was  per 
mitted  to  pass  from  one  county  to  another  without 
a  passport ;  and  the  convention  of  the  same  state 
authorized  a  committee  of  three  to  send  for  persons 
and  papers  ;  to  call  out  detachments  of  the  militia  ; 
to  apprehend,  imprison,  and  banish  whom  they 
thought  proper  ;  to  impose  secrecy  on  those  they 
employed ;  to  make  draughts  on  the  treasury ;  to 
raise  officers,  and  employ  as  they  pleased  220  sol 
diers.  All  history  bears  testimony  to  the  natural 
tendency  of  war  to  establish  and  strengthen  arbi 
trary  power.  The  pride  and  pomp  of  war,  the  un- 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.         185 

limited  power  of  the  commander,  the  gradations  of 
rank,  and  the  blind,  mechanical  obedience  exacted 
from  the  troops,  all  conspire  to  render  an  army  a 
fit  instrument  of  tyranny." 

Madison  is  very  fall  and  emphatic  on  the  despotic 
tendencies  of  war.  *;  Of  all  the  enemies  of  public 
liberty,"  he  says,  "  war  is  perhaps  the  most  to  be 
dreaded.  It  is  the  parent  of  armies  ;  from  these 
proceed  debts  and  taxes  ;  and  armies,  and  debts, 
and  taxes  are  the  well-known  instruments  for  bring 
ing  the  many  under  the  dominion  of  the  few.  War 
is  the  true  nurse  of  executive  aggrandizement.  In 
war,  a  physical  force  is  to  be  created ;  and  it  is  the 
executive  will  that  is  to  direct  it.  The  public 
treasures  are  to  be  unlocked  ;  and  it  is  the  execu 
tive  hand  which  is  to  dispense  them.  The  honors 
and  emoluments  of  office  are  to  be  multiplied  ;  and 
it  is  the  executive  patronage  under  which  they  are 
to  be  enjoyed.  It  is  in  war,  finally,  that  laurels 
are  to  be  gathered  ;  and  it  is  the  executive  brow 
they  are  to  encircle.  \The  strongest  passions  and 
most  dangerous  weaknesses  of  the  human  breast, — 
ambition,  avarice,  vanity,  the  honorable  or  the  ven 
ial  love  of  fame, — are  all  in  conspiracy  against  the 
desire  and  the  duty  of  peace.  Hence  it  has  grown 
into  an  axiom,  that  it  is  the  executive  department 
of  power  most  distinguished  by  its  propensity  to 
war  ;  and  hence  the  practice  of  all  states,  in  pro 
portion  as  they  are  free,  to  disarm  this  propensity 
of  its  influence.  In  war,  too,  the  discretionary 
power  of  the  executive  is  extended  ;  and  all  the 
means  of  seducing  the  mind,  are  added  to  those  of 
subduing  the  force  of  the  people.  No  NATION 

COULD    PRESERVE    ITS    FREEDOM    IN    THE    MIDST    OF 

CONTINUED  WARFARE.  These  truths  are  well 
established." 

Still  worse  is  the  mental  despotism  of  war,  the 
16* 


186         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF   WAR. 

cruellest  and  coarsest  of  all  despotisms,  the  very 
genius  of  pagan  barbarism  lording  it  over  civilized, 
nominally  Christian  men.  It  allows  the  soldier 
neither  liberty  of  speech,  nor  freedom  of  inquiry, 
nor  the  safe,  unshackled  exercise  of  his  own  con 
science.  It  turns  him  into  a  mere  wheel  in  the  vast 
machinery  of  war,  and  forbids  his  moving  beyond 
his  prescribed  sphere  in  the  work  of  carnage  and  de 
vastation.  It  well-nigh  annihilates  all  individuality 
of  mind  and  character.  The  will  of  thousands  it 
holds  in  stern  subjection  to  a  single  mind,  and  keeps 
them  in  a  state  of  bondage  more  galling  to  the  soul 
than  that  of  a  Polish  serf,  a  Turkish  peasant,  or  a 
galley  slave. 

We  might,  also,  glance  at  the  baleful  effects  of 
war  upon  other  institutions  of  society,  especially 
those  of  learning.  Even  the  war  of  1812  turned 
some  of  our  colleges  into  barracks  ;  and  in  that  of 
our  revolution  "  some  were  rifled,"  say  the  men  of 
those  times,  u  others  reduced  to  ashes,  and  not  one 
in  America,  except  Dartmouth,  escaped  without 
harm.  Education  languished ;  and  many  of  the 
youth  destined  for  the  service  of  the  church,  be 
took  themselves  to  the  law,  to  trade,  to  the  army 
and  the  navy." 

War  is  a  very  demon  of  vandalism.  Whose 
torch  burnt  those  treasures  of  knowledge  which  so 
many  centuries  had  been  accumulating  in  Egypt  ? 
Whose  hand  seized  the  noblest  monuments  of  an 
cient  art,  and  hurled  them  in  fragments  to  the 
ground  1  Whose  heel  of  iron  trampled  on  the 
statues,  and  temples,  and  arches,  and  columns  of 
Greece  and  Home  1  The  richest  treasures  of  learn 
ing,  the  finest  works  of  art,  the  most  splendid  pro 
ductions  of  taste  and  genius,  war  has  wantonly  de 
stroyed,  and  seemed  to  glory  in  the  ruin. 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.          187 

War  is  a  fearful  incubus  on  the  mass  of  minds. 
It  would,  if  habitual,  paralyze  the  national  intellect, 
and  roll  back  the  wheels  of  general  improvement. 
It  would  blight,  more  or  less,  every  seminary  of 
learning,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest.  It  stalks 
rough-shod  over  all  such  institutions.  It  would 
thin  even  our  Sabbath  and  common  schools,  as 
well  as  our  academies,  colleges,  and  professional 
seminaries  ;  and  not  a  few  of  the  youth  destined  to 
these  nurseries  of  intellect  and  knowledge,  would 
be  forced  into  fleets  and  camps,  or  be  dragged  from 
the  very  temples  of  science  to  meet  the  hardships 
and  horrors  of  war. 


SECTION  III. 


INFLUENCE  OF  WAR  UPON  THE    ENTERPRISES  OF    CHRISTIAN 

BENEVOLENCE. 

: 

THE  Church  of  Christ,  after  centuries  of  com 
parative  slumber,  has  at  length  girded  herself  in 
earnest  for  the  work  of  reclaiming  the  whole  world 
to  Grod,  and  has  organized  her  Sabbath  Schools,  and 
her  Peace  and  Temperance,  Tract  and  Bible,  Mis 
sionary  and  kindreJ  Societies,  as  the  special  ma 
chinery  wherewith  to  work  out  this  grand  and  glo 
rious  result. 

But  war  either  stops  or  cripples  all  this  ma 
chinery.  It  impedes  every  enterprise  of  Christian 
benevolence.  Would  you  roll  back  the  waves  of 
intemperance  ?  War  would  open  its  flood-gates 
wider  than  ever,  and  pour  over  the  whole  land  its 
waves  of  liquid  fire  and  death.  It  has  ever  been  a 
hot-bed  of  this  evil ;  nor  could  a  war  rage  through 
out  our  country,  without  putting  back  the  cause 


188         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

of  temperance  a  whole  generation.  Its  fleets,  its 
camps,  and  recruiting  rendezvous,  are  all  so  many 
nurseries  of  drunkenness  and  kindred  vices.  So 
all  experience,  all  observation,  testify.  The  war- 
system  even  in  peace  is  a  most  prolific  source  of  in 
temperance  ;  for  its  musters,  its  parades,  and  its 
military  visits,  and  dinners,  and  balls,  and  other 
displays,  are  so  many  incentives  to  habits  of  intoxi 
cation. 

Would  you  fain  convert  our  seamen  to  God? 
Alas !  war  would  soon  carry  them  beyond  your 
reach,  on  board  those  war-ships  which  warriors 
themselves  have  sometimes  called  u  floating  hells.'1 
This  department  of  benevolence  a  vigorous  naval 
war  would  almost  entirely  suspend,  and  leave  at  its 
close  nearly  our  whole  marine  in  a  state  of  moral 
degeneracy,  from  which  it  would  perhaps  require  a 
score  of  years  fully  to  reclaim  them. 

Would  you  check  the  tide  of  impurity  ?  War 
would  multiply  its  reeking  Sodoms  all  over  the 
land.  Would  you  follow  hard  upon  the  farthest 
wave  of  Western  population,  or  thread  the  dark 
alleys  and  lanes  of  our  cities,  to  gather  the  young 
into  Sabbath  schools,  and  there  bring  them  under 
the  power  of  God's  truth  ?  "War  would  thwart  you 
at  every  step,  and  either  drive  the  children  from 
you,  or  paralyze  no  small  part  of  your  efforts. 
Would  you  plant  on  the  very  confines  of  the  wil 
derness,  churches  that  shall  one  day  make  the  moral 
desert  there  bud  and  blossom  like  the  rose,  and 
send  back  thence  men.  and  money,  and  prayers  for 
the  world's  evangelization  ?  Wrar  would  drive  your 
home  missionaries  from  their  field,  or  well-nigh 
neutralize  their  power.  The  mere  anticipation  of  a 
war  in  Canada  once  disbanded  a  whole  presbytery 
of  missionaries,  and  drove  them  out  of  the  country; 
and,  amid  the  whirlwind  of  war  excitement  that 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.          189 

swept  for  a  time  down  the  great  valley  of  the 
West,  when  our  troops  rushed  to  the  Rio  Grande, 
what  could  the  best  preachers  in  the  world  have 
done  for  the  conversion  of  sinners,  or  the  sanctifi- 
cation  of  Christians  ? 

As  a  specimen  of  all  the  rest,  however,  take  the 
great  enterprise  of  evangelizing  the  world,  and  see 
how  the  custom  of  war  bears  upon  this  noblest  form 
of  benevolence.  The  providence  of  God  pretty  fully 
discloses  his  views  of  its  influences  in  this  respect. 
What  time  did  he  select  for  our  Saviour's  great 
mission  from  heaven  ?  A  time  when  the  temple  of 
Janus  at  Rome,  in  token  of  general  peace  and  tran 
quillity,  was  shut  more  than  twenty  years  ;  a  longer 
period  of  rest  from  war  than  had  then  been  known  for 
ages.  Review  the  history  of  his  church  from  that 
day  to  this  ;  and  where  will  you  find  her  eras  of 
zealous,  successful  evangelization  ?  Not  in  war,  but 
in  peace  almost  alone ;  and  during  the  thirty  years 
of  general  peace  after  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  more 
was  done  towards  the  world's  conversion  to  God, 
than  had  been  done  for  centuries  before. 

Peace  fosters  the  spirit  of  missions.  It  was  the 
spirit  of  peace  that  brought  our  Saviour  from  the 
bosom  of  his  father  ;  that  breathed  through  his 
whole  life,  and  drew  from  his  cross  the  prayer, 
"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 
do."  The  same  spirit  animated  the  martyr  at  the 
stake,  and  carried  the  apostles  from  continent  to 
continent,  through  fire  and  blood,  with  their  mes 
sage  of  salvation  to  perishing  men.  Look  at 
Brainerd  in  the  Indian's  wigwam  ;  track  the  Mo 
ravian  through  the  snows  of  Greenland ;  follow  the 
footsteps  of  Schwartz  across  the  burning  plains  of 
India,  or  of  Martyn  over  the  mountains  of  Persia; 
and  you  find  in  each  case  the  same  spirit  that  loves 
its  enernies;  turns  the  other  cheek  to  the  smiter, 


190         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

and  seeks  to  overcome  evil  only  with  good.  Such 
is  the  spirit  of  peace  ;  nor  can  it  exist  without 
nourishing  the  disposition  to  bless  the  world  with 
our  religion  of  peace. 

How  unlike  such  a  spirit  is  that  of  war  !  They 
are  antagonistic,  utterly  incompatible.  Could  two 
neighbors,  while  fiercely  panting  each  for  the  other's 
blood,  seek  one  another's  salvation  ?  No  more  can 
two  nations,  while  putting  forth  their  utmost  ener 
gies  in  vindictive,  murderous  strife,  labor  one  for 
the  spiritual  good  of  the  other.  So  of  the  world ; 
and,  if  all  its  myriads  were  simultaneously  engaged 
in  war,  the  work  of  its  Christiariization  must  cease 
for  the  time,  nor  could  ever  begin  again  until  the 
fires  of  war  were  quenched. 

Peace  is  somewhat  necessary,  also,  to  secure  God's 
blessing  upon  this  enterprise.  Why  did  he  give  to 
the  fishermen  of  Galilee  so  much  more  success  than 
he  does  to  modern  missionaries  1  There  may  be 
many  other  reasons ;  but  we  think  a  chief  one  is  to 
be  found  in  the  war-degeneracy  of  the  church.  Even 
under  the  Jewish  dispensation,  God  manifested  his 
abhorrence  of  blood  by  forbidding  David,  expressly 
for  this  reason,  to  build  the  temple  ;  and  ever  since 
the  war-degeneracy  of  his  followers,  has  the  Prince 
of  Peace  shown  his  displeasure,  by  his  diminished 
blessing  on  their  efforts  to  spread  his  religion. 
How  rapid  its  early  progress  !  How  signal,  how 
glorious  the  success  of  its  first  missionaries ! 
Without  scrip  or  purse,  with  no  diadem  on  her  brow 
save  a  crown  of  thorns,  and  no  weapon  in  her  hand 
but  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  the  church  went  forth 
under  God's  smiles,  from  conquering  to  conquer. 
Paganism  bowed  or  fled  before  her  ;  and  in  less 
than  three  centuries  did  she  fill  the  Eoman  Empire 
with  her  converts.  At  length  she  took  the  sword, 
and  well-nigh  perished  by  the  sword.  The  Holy 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES*  OF    WAR.          191 

Spirit,  the  Dove  of  peace  from  heaven,  fled  before 
the  vultures  of  war ;  and  from  that  day  the  church 
lost  the  secret  of  her  power,  the  mainspring  of  her 
progress,  her  simple  reliance  under  Grod  on  moral 
means  alone.  For  a  thousand  years  she  lost  far 
more  than  she  gained,  and  left  nearly  all  the  coun 
tries  touching  the  Mediterranean  on  three  conti 
nents,  which  had  been  the  very  centre  of  her  primi 
tive  triumphs,  in  a  condition  less  favorable  to  the 
religion  of  Jesus  than  they  were  at  the  hour  of  his 
crucifixion.  Her  whole  war-period  was  at  best  a 
dead  loss  to  the  church  ;  it  merely  embalmed  in 
blood  the  trophies  of  her  primitive  purity  and  zeal. 
So  with  the  Reformation ;  it  won  all  its  triumphs 
with  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  and  cut  the  sinews  of 
its  strength  when  it  drew  the  sword  of  war  ;  nor 
has  it  in  the  last  two  centuries  gained  so  much  as  it 
once  did  in  a  single  year. 

Peace  is,  also,  indispensable  to  secure  the  men 
and  the  money  requisite  for  the  world's  conversion. 
It  has  been  estimated,  that  30,000  heralds  of  the 
cross  would  suffice  for  this  purpose  ;  but  the  wars  of 
Europe  alone  sacrificed  in  twenty-two  years  three 
hundred  times  that  number,  and  the  war-system  of 
Christendom  employs  for  its  support,  even  in  peace, 
about  one  hundred  times  as  many ! 

Nor  is  peace  less  necessary  to  procure  the  requi 
site  funds.  Our  best  laborers  dragged  by  war  from 
their  fields  and  shops  to  the  camp,  our  commerce 
swept  from  the  ocean,  our  vessels  rotting  at  our 
wharves,  the  grass  growing  in  the  very  heart  of  our 
cities,  our  manufactures  crippled,  our  agriculture 
neglected,  every  department  of  gainful  industry 
paralyzed,  all  the  great  sources  of  our  wealth  dried 
up  at  the  very  time  that  the  expenses  of  living,  and 
the  taxes  of  government  are  enormously  increased, 
whence  could  we  get  the  means  of  giving  the  gospel 


192          MALIGN    Hft)RAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

to  the  whole  world  ?  But,  if  we  spent  in  our  war 
with  a  handful  of  Indians  in  Florida,  more  than 
$40,000,000  ;  if  our  revolutionary  war  cost  Eng 
land  some  seven  hundred  millions,  and  her  wars 
with  the  French  revolutionists  four  or  five  thousand 
millions  ;  if  those  wars  wasted  for  all  Europe  from 
thirty  to  forty  thousand  millions ;  if  the  war  debts 
of  Christendom  are  now  some  ten  thousand  mill 
ions  ;  how  easy,  by  a  mere  fraction  of  the  bare  in 
terest  on  such  sums,  to  furnish  all  the  money  needed 
to  evangelize  forthwith  every  tribe  and  family  on 
the  globe  ! 

But  war,  moreover,  dries  up  or  poisons  the  very 
fountains  of  those  moral  influences  which  sustain 
the  missionary  enterprise.  These  are  all  found  in 
the  general  prosperity  of  the  church  at  home — in 
the  growth  of  her  members  and  her  graces ;  in  her 
frequent  and  glorious  revivals  of  religion  ;  in  the 
multitude  and  ceaseless  activity  of  her  Sabbath 
schools  ;  in  her  system  of  educating  a  body  of  able, 
devoted  men  for  her  ministry  ;  in  the  success  of 
her  efforts  to  stay  the  ravages  of  intemperance,  and 
fill  the  land  with  tracts,  and  Bibles,  and  churches, 
and  the  benign  influences  of  a  Sabbath  devoted  to 
the  worship  of  God,  and  the  salvation  of  souls.  Here 
are  the  mainsprings  of  the  missionary  cause  ;  and 
every  one  of  them  a  vigorous,  long-protracted  war 
would  either  destroy,  suspend,  or  seriously  paralyze. 

But  suppose  the  church,  even  in  the  midst  of 
war,  to  do  more  than  ever  for  the  spread  of  her 
gospel,  how  are  her  missionaries  to  reach  their  dis 
tant  fields,  or  to  carry  on  their  blessed  work  there  ? 
Our  vessels  of  commerce,  which  now  transport 
them,  war  would  of  course  sweep  from  the  ocean  ; 
and  so  entirely  dependent  should  we  be  on  the 
mercy  of  a  powerful,  exasperated  foe,  that  France, 
with  a  solitary  war-ship,  might  drive  most  of  our 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.         193 

missionaries  from  the  Pacific,  and  England,  with  a 
single  dash  of  her  premier's  pen,  might  silence 
half  our  missionaries  now  in  the  eastern  world. 

But  let  the  missionary  reach  his  field,  and  what 
does  he  there  meet  ?  A  host  of  strong,  bitter 
prejudices  against  his  religion  of  peace,  from  the 
history  of  warring  Christendom.  Why  were  the 
Jesuit  missionaries  expelled  from  China,  and  all 
Christians  forbidden  to  set  foot  on  the  shores  of 
Japan  ?  Those  countries  caught  a  horror  of  men  so 
notorious,  as  nominal  Christians  are,  for  their  ra 
pacity,  and  their  terrible  success  in  war.  What 
drew  down  the  wrath  of  Burmah  upon  Judson  and 
his  co-workers  1  Not  hatred  of  Christianity,  for 
the  Burmans  as  a  body  knew  not  enough  about  the 
gospel  to  hate  it  intelligently  ;  but  their  dread  of 
British  bayonets  bristling  along  their  borders,  of 
baptized  warriors  carrying,  or  threatening  to  carry, 
fire  and  sword  into  the  heart  of  their  dominions. 
Had  those  missionaries  never  been  confounded  with 
warriors  from  Christendom,  they  might  have  been 
permitted  to  continue  their  work  unmolested,  until 
all  Burmah  had  bowed  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 
"Why  was  it  for  ages  so  extremely  difficult  to  Chris 
tianize  the  aborigines  of  America  ?  Ask  the  story 
of  their  wrongs,  the  history  of  our  wars  against 
them.  A  Romish  priest,  soon  after  the  conquest 
of  South  America  by  the  Spaniards,  was  one  day 
conversing  with  some  Indians,  and  urging  them,  by 
the  awful  retributions  of  heaven  and  of  hell,  to  em 
brace  Christianity,  the  religion  of  their  conquerors. 
"  Are  there  any  Spaniards  in  heaven  ?'3  inquired 
those  savages.  "  Spaniards  !"  replied  the  priest ; 
"  to  be  sure  ;  the  Spaniards  are  the  children  of  the 
church — they  all  go  to  heaven."  "  Then,"  retorted 
those  indignant,  outraged  sons  of  the  forest,  "  then, 
sir,  we'll  go  to  hell !"  What  a  plunge !  Yet  so 
17 


194         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

felt  not  only  the  twelve  millions  whom  the  Span 
iards  are  said  to  have  destroyed  in  little  more  than 
forty  years,  but  nearly  all  the  Indians  both  in  South 
and  North  America  ;  and  the  gangrene  of  a  sim 
ilar  prejudice  has  crept  more  or  less  over  the  great 
mass  of  unevangelized  minds  on  the  globe. 

Still  more  specific  are  the  statements  of  Wolfe, 
the  missionary  who  traversed  three  continents. 
"  A  Jew  once  said  to  me,  i  You  go  to  war,  and  you 
call  Jesus  Christ  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  pray  to 
him  to  help  your  warriors  to  vanquish  your  enemies  ; 
and,  after  battle,  you  go  to  your  churches,  and  there 
sing  Te  Deum  for  the  victory.'  When  in  the  land 
of  the  Afghans,  a  minister  of  the  prince  asked  me, 
4  What  is  your  religion  in  England  ?  Have  you 
any  at  all  ?'  '  Yes,'  said  I.  '  we  have.'  '  What  then  is 
it  ¥  he  retorted.  '  You  send  messengers  here  to 
bribe  the  king,  and  stir  up  war.  Is  that  your  re 
ligion  ?'  I  once  gave  a  Turk  the  gospel  to  read, 
and  pointed  him  to  the  fifth  chapter  of  Matthew  as 
showing  the  beauty  of  its  doctrines.  '  But,'  said  he, 
'  you  Christians  are  the  greatest  hypocrites  in  the 
world.'  '  How  so  ?'  '  Why,  here  it  is  said,  Blessed 
are  the  peace-makers  ;  and  yet  you,  more  than  any 
others,  teach  us  to  make  war,  and  are  yourselves 
the  greatest  warriors  on  earth !  How  can  you  be 
so  shameless  ?'  " 

The  heathen  are  not  ignorant  of  our  war  char 
acter.  Have  they  read  none  of  our  history  written 
for  ages  in  blood?  Know  they  not  that  Christen 
dom  is  now  covered  with  barracks,  and  bristling 
with  millions  of  bayonets  ?  Nay,  have  we  not  our 
selves  carried  the  proof  of  our  guilt  to  the  very 
doors  of  the  heathen  ?  Show  us  in  the  wide  world 
any  considerable  country  which  nominal  Christiana 
have  not  drenched  in  blood.  Traverse  all  Asia? 
all  Africa,  all  America :  and  where  will  you  not 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.         195 

find  their  war-tracks  in  fire,  and  blood,  and  tears  ? 
Thus  has  war  made  the  very  name  of  Christianity 
a  hissing,  a  scorn  and  a  loathing  through  the  pagan 
world  ;  and  the  missionary,  go  where  he  will,  must 
meet  these  deep,  bitter,  almost  incurable  prejudices 
against  our  religion  of  peace,  so  strangely  belied  for 
fifteen  centuries  by  her  warring  votaries.  Not  a 
sea  can  he  cross,  not  a  country  reach,  scarce  an  isl 
and  touch,  but  the  war-dogs  from  Christendom 
have  been  there  before  him,  to  throw  in  his  way 
obstacles  which  ages  can  hardly  suffice  to  remove. 
Abolish  war  among  nominal  Christians ;  and  you 
pave  the  way  for  the  speedy,  thorough  conversion 
of  the  whole  world  to  God,  and  peace  will  be  found 
to  be  quite  indispensable  to  the  full  success  of  the 
missionary  enterprise. 


SECTION  IV. 

INFLUENCE    OF    WAR    ON    THE    SALVATION    OF    MANKIND. 

THE  soul  is  man's  great  interest ;  and  no  created 
mind  can  adequately  conceive  how  much  will  be 
gained  by  its  salvation,  or  lost  by  its  ruin.  Earth 
has  no  arithmetic  for  such  calculations.  Ask  the 
tenants  of  the  spirit-world, — the  saint  bowing  in 
rapture  before  the  eternal  throne,  or  the  lost  sinner 
writhing  in  the  agonies  of  perdition  ;  ask  Him  who 
made  the  soul  for  himself,  or  Him  who  came  from 
heaven  to  redeem  the  soul  by  his  own  blood,  or  that 
blessed  Spirit  who  is  now  at  work  amid  the  ruins 
of  the  fall  to  renew  the  soul,  and  render  it  meet 
for  the  paradise  a43ove  ;  for  the  omniscient  God  alone 
can  tell  the  sum  total  of  bliss  or  woe  which  awaits 
every  traveller  to  eternity. 


196         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR 

Here  lies  the  chief  evil  of  war — in  its  tendency 
to  ruin  the  soul.  It  does  so  with  a  wide  and  fear 
ful  efficacy.  It  makes  men  forget  their  immortal 
interests.  A  war,  in  actual  progress,  becomes  of 
course  the  all-engrossing  theme  of  society ;  the 
whole  land  is  full  of  it ;  the  public  mind  is  satu 
rated  with  it ;  and  such  an  absorption  of  high  and 
low,  old  and  young,  saints  and  sinners,  on  any  other 
subject  than  that  of  vital  godliness,  cannot  fail  to 
obstruct  their  salvation. 

War,  also,  disqualifies  men  for  a  saving  reception 
of  the  gospel.  Metals  must  be  melted  before  you  can 
cast  them  ;  you  must  heat  iron  before  you  can  weld 
it ;  and  upon  a  community  of  minds  impregnated 
with  war-passions,  the  strongest  truths  of  God's 
word  would  fall  powerless  as  moon-beams  on  a 
mountain  of  ice.  But  war  throws  millions  of  minds 
into  such  a  state.  It  fills  whole  empires  with  ani 
mosity,  malevolence,  revenge.  It  makes  the  public 
heart  a  caldron  of  seething,  boiling  passions.  It 
blinds  the  mind  to  God's  truth  ;  it  sears  or  per 
verts  the  conscience ;  it  hardens  or  exasperates 
the  heart ;  it  renders  the  whole  soul  well-nigh  im 
penetrable  for  the  time  to  any  arrows  even  from 
the  quiver  of  the  Almighty.  Can  you  bring  the 
truth  of  God  into  saving  contact  with  minds  thus 
affected  ?  Can  you,  with  any  hope  of  success, 
preach  the  gospel  to  an  army  on  tiptoe  for  battle, 
or  to  a  community  roused  and  convulsed  with  the 
fierce,  vindictive  passions  of  war  ?  No  :  breathe  the 
genuine  war-spirit  into  every  bosom  on  earth  ;  and 
from  that  moment  must  the  work  of  conversion  and 
sanctification  cease  everywhere. 

War,  moreover,  prevents  the  use  of  means  for  the 
salvation  of  men.  The  millions  of  standing  warriors 
now  in  Christendom,  it  deprives  even  in  peace  of 
nearly  all  religious  privileges,  and  thus  exposes  them 


MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR.          197 

to  almost  certain  perdition.  No  class  of  men,  not 
even  seamen,  are  so  poorly  provided  with  the  means 
of  grace.  Next  to  nothing  is  done  for  their  salva 
tion.  There  is  no  pastor,  no  missionary  among 
them  to  care  for  their  souls  ;  and,  if  there  were,  his 
labors,  generally  subject  to  the  dictation  of  an  un 
godly  commander,  would  probably  be,  like  those  of 
Baxter  himself  even  in  a  Puritan  camp,  well-nigh 
useless.  No  Sabbath  dawns  upon  them  ;  no  sanc 
tuary  opens  its  doors  to  them  ;  no  Sabbath-schools, 
no  prayer-meeting,  no  family  altar,  scarce  a  Bible 
or  a  tract,  can  be  found  among  the  mass  of  men 
trained  to  the  work  of  human  butchery  for  a  liveli 
hood. — So  it  must  be.  Look  at  the  very  nature  of 
war  ;  and  tell  us  what  can  be  done  for  the  souls  of 
men  cast  in  its  own  mould,  imbued  with  its  spirit, 
and  steepod  in  its  vices  and  crimes,  lleview  the 
history  of  war ;  and  tell  us  what  has  been  done  or 
attempted  for  the  salvation  of  warriors.  Among 
the  millions  that  fought,  and  the  millions  that  fell, 
during  the  late  wars  of  Europe,  did  one  in  ten  or  a 
hundred  enjoy  the  ordinary  means  of  grace  ? — We 
grant  that  much  more  is  now  done  in  a  few  Chris 
tian  countries  for  warriors  ;  but  how  very  little, 
and  with  results  how  meagre  and  miserable  !  We 
hear  indeed  of  war-chaplains  ;  but  what  do  they  do 
for  their  spiritual  charge  ?  What  can  they  do  ? 
The  whole  business  of  war-chaplaincies  is  little  else 
than  a  piece  of  solemn  mockery. 

The  war-system,  then,  makes  fearful  havoc  of 
souls  among  its  own  agents  even  in  peace.  It  is  a 
school  of  irreligion,  vice  and  profligacy  ;  nor  could 
you  well  select  a  surer  way  to  perdition,  than  the 
army  or  the  navy.  How  few  in  either  give  any  evi 
dence  of  being  prepared  for  heaven  !  Yet  are  there 
in  Christendom  itself  some  three  millions,  even  in 
peace,  training  in  this  school  of  error  and  sin  for  a 


196         MALIGN    MORAL    INFLUENCES    OF    WAR. 

miserable  eternity.  If  these  millions  all  die  off  on 
an  average  in  twenty  years,  there  would  annually 
go  into  the  world  of  spirits  150,000  souls;  and 
how  few  of  them  prepared  for  their  last  account ! 
With  this  number,  compare  the  sum  total  of  church- 
members  at  all  the  missionary  stations  among  the 
heathen  in  1844,  when  they  amounted  to  17/i,233, 
or  a  little  more,  as  the  result  of  half  a  century's 
labors,  than  the  annual  sacrifice  of  souls  in  Chris 
tendom  itself  at  the  shrine  of  the  war-demon  even 
in  peace ! ! 

War,  also,  stifles  the  very  disposition  to  use  the 
means  of  grace.  Breathe  its  spirit  of  anger,  hatred 
and  revenge  into  any  circle  of  families  ;  and  would 
the  Christians  in  that  circle  be  intent  on  the  salva 
tion  of  its  impenitent  members?  Were  the  same 
war-passions  to  pervade  and  convulse  a  whole  con 
gregation,  would  their  pastor  be  able,  or  his  church 
inclined,  to  use  the  means  indispensable  to  a  gene 
ral  revival  of  religion  ?  War  tends  to  check  all 
efforts  for  the  salvation  of  men  :  and,  could  its 
malignant,  vindictive  spirit  gangrene  the  bosom  of 
every  Christian  on  earth,  not  another  missionary, 
not  even  another  Bible  or  tract  would  ever  go  from 
Christian  shores,  to  light  the  lamp  of  life  everlast 
ing  amid  the  six  or  eight  hundred  millions  of  our 
race,  now  groping  their  way  to  eternity  beneath 
the  death-shades  of  paganism. 

But  war,  likewise,  tends  in  many  ways  to  neutral 
ize  the  best  means  of  grace  when  used.  It  shuts  or 
steels  the  minds  of  men  against  their  power.  Were 
two  professors  of  religion  embroiled  in  a  well  known 
disgraceful  feud,  would  their  impenitent  neighbors 
be  disposed  to  receive  religious  instruction  from 
their  lips?  Should  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  stain 
ed  with  the  blood  of  an  enemy  slain  in  duel  or 
battle,  enter  the  pulpit  of  your  own  church,  would 


MALIGN   MORAL    INFLUENCES   OF    WAR.          199 

you  not  instantly  shut  against  him  every  avenue  to 
your  heart  ?  Yet  such  is  the  attitude  in  which  the 
church  of  Christ,  belied  by  the  wars  of  Christen 
dom,  has  for  centuries  stood  before  the  whole 
world. 

Few  suspect  how  far  the  gospel  is  neutralized  by 
the  incidental  influences  of  war.  It  is  well  known 
that  the  old  French  war  put  an  end  to  the  glorious 
revivals  in  this  country  under  Whiten  eld ;  and 
during  the  forty  years  of  war-ferment  from  that 
war  to  the  treaty  of  1783,  there  was  an  almost  uni 
versal  and  unbroken  dearth  of  revivals.  In  1841 
I  visited  a  retired  town  in  Massachusetts,  and  ex 
amined  the  records  of  its  only  church  for  more  than 
a  century  previous.  No  battle  had  been  fought 
there ;  no  army,  scarce  a  recruiting  officer,  had 
prowled  over  or  near  it ;  nor  had  the  ordinary 
means  of  grace  been  interrupted  more  than  is  com 
mon  even  in  a  time  of  peace.  Yet  mark  the  result. 
From  1729  to  1744,  fourteen  years  of  peace,  149 
were  added  to  the  church ;  an  average  of  nearly 
eleven  a  year.  From  the  beginning  of  the  old 
French  war  to  the  close  of  our  revolution  in  1783, 
some  forty  years  of  military  excitement,  there  were 
only  77  additions  ;  less  than  two  a  year,  or  a  dimi 
nution  of  more  than  five  hundred  per  cent,  from 
the  previous  period  of  peace.  From  1810  to  1815, 
the  time  of  our  last  war  with  two  years  of  antece 
dent  exasperation,  only  three  persons  were  received 
into  the  church ;  one  in  a  little  less  than  two  years! 
From  1830  to  1839,  there  were  183  additions; 
about  nineteen  a  year,  or  an  increase  upon  the  last 
case  of  nearly  four  thousand  per  cent!  Thus  we 
find  the  mere  excitements  of  war  diminishing  the 
efficacy  of  essentially  the  same  means,  first  more 
than  500  per  cent.,  next  some  2000  per  cent.,  and 
finally  almost  4000  per  cent. ;  nor  is  it  any  exag- 


200          MALIGN    MOEAL    INFLUEECES    OF    WAR. 

geration  to  say  that  war  probably  neutralizes  four- 
fifths,  if  not  nine- tenths,  of  the  saving  power  of  the 
gospel ! 

How  fearfully,  then,  must  war  tend  to  prevent 
the  indispensable  influences  of  God's  Spirit.  Vain, 
without  his  blessing,  would  be  the  labors  of  Paul  or 
Gabriel ;  but  will  he  succeed  the  instrumentality 
of  those  who  breathe  a  war-spirit  ?  Should  all  the 
churches  in  our  land  catch  such  a  spirit,  and  cher 
ish  hatred  instead  of  love,  revenge  in  place  of  for 
giveness,  the  entire  cluster  of  war-passions,  could 
they  expect,  in  such  a  state,  seasons  of  "  refreshing 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  V1  Yet  such  pas 
sions  are  inseparable  from  actual  warfare,  and,  per 
vading  more  or  less  a  whole  people,  must  inevitably 
drive  the  Spirit  of  God  from  his  work  of  reviving 
grace  among  them. 

Surely,  then,  war  must  be  a  fearful  destroyer  of 
immortal  souls.  It  is  the  devil's  master-device  for 
their  wholesale  destruction.  It  ripens  them  fast 
for  perdition,  and  then  sweeps  them  into  the  bot 
tomless  pit  by  thousands,  and  even  by  millions ! 
Would  to  God  there  were  more  room  for  doubt  on 
this  point !  I  know,  indeed,  the  belief  of  some,  that 
none,  however  wicked  and  impenitent,  will  finally 
be  lost ;  but  if,  as  evangelical  Christians  believe, 
we  must  all  repent,  or  perish,  must  be  born  again, 
or  never  see  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  if,  in  the  lan 
guage  of  Paul,  '  neither  fornicators,  nor  adulterers, 
nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor  drunkards,  nor  re- 
vilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom 
of  God  ;'  how  impossible  to  suppose,  that  any  con 
siderable  number  of  warriors,  the  mass  of  whom 
answer  so  notoriously  to  the  characters  here  given, 
can  ever  enter  the  world  of  glory ! 

How  immense,  then,  the  ruin  of  souls  by  war! 
Think  of  a  battle-field  where  ten,  twenty,  fifty,  a 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  201 

hundred,  two  hundred,  three  hundred  thousand 
fell  in  a  day ;  of  nine  or  ten  millions  sacrificed  in 
the  late  wars  of  Europe  ;  of  thirty-two  millions  by 
Jenghiz-Khan  alone  in  forty  years  !  God  only 
knows — we  dare  not  even  conjecture — how  many 
souls  this  custom  may  in  all  past  time  have  sent, 
unrenewed  and  unforgiven,  to  their  last  account ! 


PART  III. 

REMEDIES    FOR    WAR. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

SECTION  I. 

PLEAS    JN    FAVOR    OF    WAR. 

WE  have  looked  at  the  evil ;  and  we  now  inquire 
for  a  remedy.  This  remedy  must  suit  the  nature 
of  the  malady ;  and,  since  war  comes  from  the 
wrong  choice  of  men,  we  must  correct  their  modes 
of  reasoning  on  the  subject,  and  shall  consider  first 
the  pleas  urged  in  its  behalf,  and  then  the  influ 
ences  which  still  sustain  the  custom  even  in  Chris 
tendom. 

Many  of  the  old  arguments  for  war  are  too  ab 
surd  or  too  cold-blooded  to  deserve  a  moment's  con 
sideration.  It  used  to  be  gravely  asserted,  that 
war  is  a  healthy  stimulus  to  the  body-politic  ;  that 


202  THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

it  tends,  if  it  be  not  indispensable,  to  preserve  na 
tions  from  degeneracy  ;  that  it  is  the  natural  state 
of  mankind,  the  general  law  of  their  being,  and 
peace  the  exception  ;  that  it  serves,  like  storms  and 
hurricanes  in  the  physical  world,  to  purify  the 
moral  atmosphere ;  that  nations  must,  now  and 
then,  fight,  just  to  let  off  the  pent-up  steam  of  their 
passions ;  that  occasional  wars  are  necessary  to 
keep  population,  wealth  and  luxury  down  to  a  safe 
and  proper  level.  Such  assumptions  may  seem 
strange  and  savage  enough  ;  but  they  have  been 
seriously  maintained  by  eminent  statesmen,  philos 
ophers  and  theologians,  at  the  head  of  whom  we 
must  place  Lord  Monboddo,  who  also  contends,  that 
man  is  only  a  monkey,  with  his  tail  worn  off  by 
long  attrition  ! 

We  are  told,  moreover,  that  war  furnishes  em 
ployment,  and  a  livelihood  for  vast  multitudes.  So 
does  idolatry ;  so  does  the  slave-trade  ;  and  so  do 
counterfeiters,  robbers  and  pirates,  live  by  their  vil 
lainies.  Can  such  a  plea  justify  those  practices'? 

But  we  are  often  reminded,  that  war  calls  forth 
some  of  man's  noblest  powers — such  as  ingenuity, 
skill,  energy,  high  enterprise,  indomitable  perseve 
rance.  So  also  does  every  species  of  high-handed 
wickedness  call  forth  similar  qualities.  It  requires 
the  union  of  them  all  to  make  a  consummate  vil 
lain,  a  man  that  can  rob,  or  forge,  or  counterfeit 
with  success  on  a  large  scale  ;  and  in  our  state- 
prisons  you  will  find  some  of  the  strongest,  shrew  1- 
est,  boldest  minds,  the  very  metal  that  makes  he 
roes.  Does  this  prove  such  crimes  commendable  ? 
If  war  occasionally  produces  instances  of  self- 
sacrifice,  we  reply  that  this  is  not  the  fruit  of  war ; 
and,  even  if  it  were,  you  may  often  find  essentially 
the  same  in  a  crew  of  pirates,  every  one  of  whom 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  203 

is  just  as  selfish  in  fighting  for  the  whole  gang,  as 
he  would  be  in  fighting  for  himself  alone. 

Another  plea  for  this  custom,  is  the  universal  ex 
ample  of  nations.  There  is  no  vice,  no  crime,  no 
enormity  in  morals,  that  cannot  plead  precedents 
enough ;  but,  "  because  war  is  according  to  the 
practice  of  the  world,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is 
right.  For  ages  the  world  worshipped  false  gods ;  but 
those  gods  were  not  the  less  false  because  all  bowed 
before  them.  At  this  moment  the  larger  portion  of 
mankind  are  heathen  ;  but  heathenism  is  not  true." 
It  is  said,  also,  that  the  war  system  is  necessary 
to  national  character  and  influence.  A  sheer  delu 
sion,  as  much  a  figment  of  the  imagination  as 
would  be  the  supposition,  that  the  custom  of  duel 
ling  is  indispensable  for  the  same  purpose  to  indi 
viduals.  It  may  be  thought  so  in  a  community  of 
duellists  ;  but  the  necessity,  if  there  be  any,  is 
created  solely  by  the  custom  itself;  and,  were  that 
practice  discarded,  it  would  serve  the  purpose  of 
respectability  about  as  well,  as  would  the  habit  of 
intoxication.  So  of  nations.  Just  abolish  war  ;  and 
the  world  will  no  longer  look  to  the  battle-field  for 
proofs  of  their  excellence  ;  and  even  now  are  they 
fast  coming  to  be  estimated  by  the  arts,  the  virtues, 
and  various  prosperities  of  peace. 

It  is  said,  that  war  sweeps  off  the  idle,  dissolute 
and  vicious  members  of  the  community.  Monstrous 
argument!  If  a  government  may  for  this  end 
plunge  a  nation  into  war,  it  may  with  equal  justice 
consign  to  the  executioner  any  number  of  its  sub 
jects  whom  it  may  deem  a  burden  on  the  state.  So 
do  dram-shops  and  brothels  drain  off  the  refuse  of 
society  ;  but  does  this  fact  prove  these  purlieus  of 
perdition  to  be  right  or  wise  ?  They  are  the  great 
nurseries  of  profligacy  ;  and  so  does  war  make  four 
villainSj  where  it  kills  off  cme. 


204  THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

Here  comes  the  Malthusian  bug-bear  of  a  super 
abundant  population.  It  is  said,  that  perpetual 
peace  among  all  nations  would  in  time  cover  the 
earth  with  a  number  of  inhabitants  far  beyond  its 
capacity  to  support,  and  thus  entail  in  the  end  more 
evil  than  would  result  from  occasional  wars.  How 
little  reason  there  is  to  fear  any  such  result,  may 
be  seen  from  a  few  estimates.  It  has  been  calcu 
lated  by  a  scientific  agriculturist,  that  nearly  one- 
third  of  Ireland's  12,000,000  arable  acres,  if  devo 
ted  to  the  potatoe  crop,  would  yield  food  for  a  pop 
ulation  of  40,000,000,  and  that  one  half  of  its  en 
tire  Surface,  containing  nearly  20.000,000  acres, 
would,  if  cultivated  in  the  same  way,  support  no 
less  than  100,000,000!  Just  extend  such  calcula 
tions  over  the  globe,  and  the  result  would  be  as 
tounding.  The  entire  surface  of  the  earth  com 
prises  nearly  200,000,000  square  miles  ;  and,  if  we 
suppose  only  60,000,000,  or  less  than  one-third  of 
the  whole,  to  be  dry  land,  and  barely  one-half  of 
this,  or  19.200,000,000  acres,  to  be  cultivated  with  po 
tatoes,  or  some  other  crop  equally  productive  of  food 
for  man,  it  would,  at  this  rate,  maintain  in  comfort 
the  prodigious  number  of  192,000,000,000,  or  240 
times  as  many  as  the  present  population  of  the 
globe ! ! 

War  is  supposed,  also,  to  kindle  patriotism. 
'•  But  the  patriotism,"  says  Channing,  "  which  is 
cherished  by  war,  is  ordinarily  false  and  spurious, 
a  vice,  and  not  a  virtue,  a  scourge  to  the  world,  a 
narrow,  unjust  passion,  which  aims  to  exalt  a  par 
ticular  state  on  the  humiliation  and  destruction  of 
other  nations.  A  genuine,  enlightened  patriot  dis 
cerns  that  the  welfare  of  his  own  country  is  in 
volved  in  the  general  progress  of  society ;  and,  in 
the  character  of  a  patriot,  as  well  as  of  a  Christian, 
he  rejoices  in  the  liberty  and  prosperity  of  other 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  205 

communities,  and  is  anxious  to  maintain  with  them 
the  relations  of  peace  and  amity." 

A  much  stronger  plea  for  war,  is  found  in  the 
maxim,  that  self  preservation  is  the  first  law  of  our 
nature.  If  it  be  so,  this  will  not  justify  the  cus 
tom  of  war,  because  it  is  not  necessary  for  our  safety, 
nor  does  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  prompt  us 
to  kill  our  assailants ;  it  stops  with  saving  ourselves. 
But  is  instinct  the  rule  of  our  duty,  the  Christian's 
standard  of  right  and  wrong?  It  has  indeed  been 
said,  that  such  instincts  are  the  first  edition  of  God's 
revelation  to  mankind;  but  this  very  argument  in 
fidel  libertines,  in  the  time  of  Voltaire  and  llousseau. 
employed  to  justify  unrestrained  licentiousness,  and 
insisted  on  its  being  right  for  the  debauchee  to  in 
dulge,  at  will,  those  passions  which  God  had  im 
planted  in  his  nature.  Do  you  scout  such  logic  ? 
Well  you  may  ;  but  wherein  does  it  differ  from  your 
own  ?  You  plead  instinct ;  so  did  they  ;  and  if  you 
may,  why  may  not  infidels,  appeal  to  the  instincts  of 
our  fallen  nature,  for  a  rule  of  duty,  or  a  measure 
of  permitted  indulgence  ?  No  man  can  doubt  either 
the  right  or  the  duty  of  self-defence,  or  self  preserva 
tion  |  but  we  are  to  preserve  our  lives  only  by  such 
means  as  God  enjoins,  or  clearly  permits.  Does  he 
then  authorize  war  for  such  a  purpose?  To  save 
life,  did  he  appoint,  or  does  he  now  sanction,  a  cus 
tom  which  has  deluged  the  whole  earth  with  blood 
for  five  thousand  years?  War  necessary  to  pre 
serve  life  !  Seldom,  if  ever  :  and,  if  you  search  all 
profane  history,  you  will  probably  find  no  war  in 
which  the  only  alternative  for  a  people  was  to  kill, 
or  be  killed.  After  they  began  to  light,  that  was 
the  alternative  ;  but,  had  they  at  the  outset  refused 
to  fight,  they  would  have  been  spared.  True, 
other  things  might  have  been  lost ;  but  life,  the 
only  thing  now  in  question,  would  have  been  saved. 
18 


206  THE    SUPPORTS    OF   WAR. 

Several  hundred  thousand  perished  in  the  war  of 
our  revolution ;  but,  had  we  never  drawn  the 
-word,  probably  not  a  dozen  lives  would  have  been 
sacrificed. 

It  is  sometimes  said,  that  war,  or  a  military  spirit, 
favors  liberty.  Nothing  could  be  farther  from  the 
truth.  It  is  a  contradiction  of  nearly  all  history ; 
for  nations,  after  fighting  for  ages,  have  generally 
been  enslaved  by  the  rush  or  recoil  of  the  war-power 
upon  them.  Liberty  has  no  foundation  but  in  pri 
vate  and  public  virtue ;  and  these,  as  we  have  seen, 
are  not  the  common  growth  of  war.  It  is  true,  that 
liberty,  when  attained,  has  pretty  generally  been 
won  apparently  by  the  sword ;  but  it  resulted  in 
fact  from  other  causes,  might  have  been  secured  in 
better  form  without  war,  and  probably  would  have 
come  in  the  end  by  peaceful  means  rightly  used.  It 
might  have  taken  longer  time,  but  would  have  cost 
far  less,  and  been  incomparably  more  sure.  Peace 
ful  agitation,  as  the  result  of  such  agitations  in  Great 
Britain  most  fully  proves,  is  by  far  the  safest,  easi 
est,  and  most  effectual  method  of  obtaining  political 
reforms.  Liberty,  free  institutions,  popular  rights, 
are  the  growth,  not  of  war,  but  of  peace  ;  and  one 
century  of  universal,  unbroken  peace  would  do 
more  for  the  world  in  these  respects,  than  five  thou 
sand  years  of  blood  have  done,  or  five  thousand  more 
could  do. 

It  is  said,  also,  that  a  military  spirit,  with  ample 
preparations  for  war,  is  the  safeguard  of  a  people. 
All  history  contradicts  the  assertion  ;  for  the  more 
warlike  nations  have  been  most  frequently  assailed. 
From  1700  to  1815,  "Great  Britain,"  says  Judge 
Jay,  "was  engaged  in  war  69  years,  Russia  68, 
France  63,  Holland  43,  Portugal  40,  Denmark  28. 
Their  wars  have  been  pretty  much  in  proportion  to 
their  military  strength  j  and  thus-  in  the  righteous 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  207 

retribution  of  Providence,  those  nations  which  most 
cultivate  the  arts  of  war,  are  made  to  drink  most 
deeply  of  its  bloody  cup." 

Is  it.  however,  urged  that,  so  long  as  other  na 
tions  keep  armed,  we  must  too  ?  True,  if  we  rely 
upon  the  sword  for  protection  ;  but  we  should  find 
far  greater  safety  in  cultivating  towards  all  nations 
a  spirit  of  peace  and  perfect  justice.  Such  a  peo 
ple,  without  a  single  war-ship,  fort  or  musket,  would 
be  safe,  even  if  all  the  world  besides  were  armed  to 
the  teeth.  We  urge  a  peaceful  policy,  however, 
not  upon  one  nation  alone,  but  upon  the  whole  bro 
therhood  of  nations ;  and,  if  they  should  all  agree 
to  adopt  pacific  expedients  in  place  of  the  sword  for 
the  adjustment  of  their  difficulties,  and  should  come 
in  time  to  find  no  use  for  their  warlike  preparations, 
and  hence  to  unite  in  simultaneously  dismantling 
their  fleets,  disbanding  their  armies,  and  leaving 
their  fortifications  to  disuse  and  decay,  would  there 
be  any  danger  then  ?  The  very  reverse  ;  such  a  pro 
cess  would  just  guarantee  the  permanent  safety  and 
peace  of  the  world. 

"  A  much  stronger  argument  is,"  says  Channing, 
u  that  without  war  to  excite  and  invigorate  the  hu 
man  mind,  some  of  its  noblest  energies  will  slumber, 
and  its  highest  qualities, — courage,  magnanimity, 
fortitude,— will  perish.  To  this  I  answer,  that  if 
war  is  to  be  encouraged  among  nations,  because  it 
nourishes  energy  and  heroism,  on  the  same  princi 
ple,  war  in  our  families,  and  between  villages  ought 
to  be  encouraged  ;  for  such  contests  would  equally 
tend  to  promote  heroic  daring,  and  contempt  of 
death.  Why  shall  not  different  provinces  of  the 
same  empire  annually  meet  with  the  weapons  of 
death,  just  to  keep  alive  their  courage  ?  We  shrink 
at  this  suggestion  with  horror  ;  but  why  shall  con 
tests  of  nations,  rather  than  of  provinces  or  families, 


208  THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

find  shelter  under  this  barbarous  argument?  Tf 
war  be  a  blessing,  because  it  awakens  energy  and 
courage,  then  the  savage  state  is  peculiarly  privi 
leged  5  for  every  savage  is  a  soldier,  and  all  his 
modes  of  life  tend  to  form  him  to  invincible  resolu 
tion.  On  the  same  principle,  those  early  periods  of 
society  were  happy,  when  men  were  called  to  con 
tend  not  only  with  one  another,  but  with  beasts  of 
prey  ;  for  to  these  excitements  we  owe  the  heroism 
of  Hercules  and  Theseus.  The  feudal  ages,  too, 
were  more  favored  than  the  present ;  for  then  every 
baron  was  a  military  chief,  every  castle  frowned  de 
fiance,  and  every  vassal  was  trained  to  arms. 

<;  But  there  is  no  need  of  war  to  awaken  human 
energy.  There  is  at  least  equal  scope  for  courage 
and  magnanimity  in  blessing  as  in  destroying  man 
kind.  In  relieving  the  countless  wants  and  sor 
rows  of  the  world,  in  exploring  unknown  regions, 
in  carrying  the  arts  -and  virtues  of  civilization  to 
unimproved  communities,  in  extending  the  bounds 
of  knowledge,  in  diffusing  the  spirit  of  freedom,  and 
especially  in  spreading  the  light  and  influence  of 
Christianity,  how  much  may  be  dared,  how  much 
endured  !  Philanthropy  invites  us  to  services  which 
demand  the  most  intense,  and  elevated,  and  resolute, 
and  adventurous  activity.  Let  it  not  be  imagined, 
that  were  nations  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  Chris 
tianity,  they  would  slumber  in  ignoble  ease ;  that 
instead  of  the  high-minded  murderers  who  are 
formed  on  the  present  system  of  war,  we  should 
have  effeminate  and  timid  slaves.  Christian  benev 
olence  is  as  active  as  it  is  forbearing.  It  will  call 
forth  sympathy  on  behalf  of  the  suffering  in  every 
region  under  heaven.  It  will  give  a  new  extension 
to  the  heart,  open  a  wider  sphere  to  enterprise,  in 
spire  a  courage  of  exhaustless  resource,  and  prompt 
to  every  sacrifice  arid  exposure  for  the  improvement 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  209 

and  happiness  of  the  human  race.  The  energy  of 
this  principle  has  been  tried  and  displayed  in  the 
fortitude  of  the  martyr,  and  in  the  patient  labors 
of  those  who  have  carried  the  gospel  into  the  dreary  * 
abodes  of  idolatry.  Away  then  with  the  argument, 
that  war  is  needed  as  a  nursery  of  heroism.  The 
school  of  the  peaceful  Redeemer  is  infinitely  more 
adapted  to  teach  the  nobler  as  well  as  the  milder 
virtues  which  adorn  humanity." 

It  is,  also,  said  by  some,  that  war,  or  its  system  of 
preparations,  is  necessary  for  the  enforcement  of 
law,  and  the  support  of  government.  Thus  used, 
it  would  no  longer  be  war,  but  justice;  not  the 
sword  of  the  warrior,  but  that  of  the  magistrate  ; 
quite  as  distinct  one  from  the  other,  as  the  act  of 
two  boys  mauling  each  other  in  the  streets,  would 
be  from  that  of  their  parents  duly  punishing  both 
for  the  quarrel.  Peace  paralyze  the  arm  of  law ! 
No ;  it  is  the  operations  of  war,  not  the  prin 
ciples  of  peace,  that  crush  or  cripple  government, 
and  introduce  the  reign  of  violence,  terror  and  law 
less  crime.  War  necessary  to  government !  How  ? 
Must  nations  butcher  one  another  in  order  to  gov 
ern  themselves  'I  If  duelling  should  cease,  would 
parents  lose  their  authority  over  their  own  families  1 
Should  the  whole  war-system  come  to  an  end,  would 
not  every  government  still  retain  its  right  to  control 
and  punish  its  own  subjects  /  Could  it  not,  if  it 
chose,  continue  to  hang  the  murderer,  to  imprison 
the  thief,  and  employ  an  armed  police  for  the  sup 
pression  of  mobs,  riots,  and  other  popular  outbreaks? 

4  But  war,'  we  are  told,  '  is  at  times  a  dire  neces 
sity,  the  last  possible  resort  of  nations  ;  and,  in  such 
extreme  cases,  how  can  they  settle  their  disputes 
without  it  V  Why,  by  negotiation,  by  reference 
to  umpires,  or  mediation  of  some  friendly  power ; 
methods  far  better  than  the  sword  for  all  justifiable 
18* 


210  THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

purposes  ;  and  to  some  of  these,  all  belligerents  must 
come,  sooner  or  later,  as  the  only  possible  way  of 
adjusting  their  difficulties.  War  necessary  for  na 
tions  !  No  more  than  duels  are  for  indi\7iduals. 
War  settle  their  disputes !  Never  between  civilized 
nations  ;  for  such  parties  invariably  sheathe  the 
sword  before  they  dream  of  a  settlement,  and  then 
dispatch,  not  men  of  blood  to  light,  but  men  of 
peace,  plenipotentiaries,  to  negotiate.  And  why 
not  do  this  before  fighting,  and  thus  obviate  all  ne 
cessity  of  war  ?  We  had  a  Controversy  with  Eng 
land  about  our  north-eastern  boundary  ;  and,  had 
we  gone  to  war,  would  that  have  settled  the  dis 
pute  ?  No  ;  it  would  only  have  aggravated  its  dif 
ficulties.  There  is  no  logic  in  bullets  and  bomb 
shells  ;  the  butchery  of  millions  on  the  disputed 
territory,  could  never  have  thrown  a  single  ray  of 
new  light  upon  the  points  in  controversy  ;  and, 
after  wasting  myriads  of  treasure,  and  shedding 
oceans  of  blood,  we  should  have  been  obliged  to  em 
ploy,  for  the  final  adjustment,  the  very  same  pacific 
means  that  might  have  been  used  even  more  suc 
cessfully  before  the  war  than  after  it. 

'  But  suppose  a  nation  will  come  to  no  reasonable 
terms.'  Then  let  them  alone  ;  better  far  than  to 
fight  them.  War  is  a  suicidal  process,  and  gene 
rally  serves  only  to  aggravate  the  evils  it  seeks  to 
redress  or  cure.  If  your  neighbor  owes  you  a  hun 
dred  dollars,  would  you  spend  a  thousand  in  efforts 
to  compel  payment,  and  meanwhile  give  him  leave, 
if  he  can,  to  blow  out  your  brains,  to  burn  your 
dwelling,  and  butcher  your  family  ?  Such  is  war. 
Talk  of  conquering  a  peace  !  As  well  attempt  to 
conquer  temperance  by  getting  drunk  ! 

But  the  strongest,  or  most  logical  plea  for  war, 
represents  it  as  a  judicial  process,  a  tribunal  of  jus 
tice  between  nations,  a  method  of  determining  their 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  211 

rights,  redressing  their  wrongs,  and  inflicting  con 
dign  punishment  upon  the  guilty.  Lieber  calls  it 
"  a  mode  of  obtaining  rights  ;"  Vattel  defines  it  to 
be  "  that  state  in  which  we  prosecute  our  rights  by 
force ;"  and  Lord  Bacon  describes  it  as  "  one  of  the 
highest  trials  of  right,  when  princes  and  states  put 
themselves  upon  the  justice  of  God  for  the  deciding 
of  their  controversies  by  such  success  as  it  shall 
please  him  to  give  to  either  side." 

This  plea  is  quite  plausible  ;  but  will  facts  jus 
tify  it  ?  In  every  judicial  trial,  we  see  first,  a  law 
common  to  the  parties  ;  next  a  judge  and  jury,  as 
impartial  umpires  between  them ;  then  the  ac 
cuser  publicly  meeting  the  accused  face  to  face 
with  his  charges  5  next  the  witnesses  testifying  in 
open  court,  and  subject  to  the  most  searching  ex 
amination  by  each  party ;  then  the  whole  case  fully 
argued  or.  b^th  sides,  and  closed  by  the  charge  of 
the  judge,  and  the  verdict  of  the  jury,  each  deliv' 
ered  under  all  the  solemnities  of  an  oath ;  and 
finally,  the  sentence  of  the  court,  to  be  executed 
according  to  law  only  by  a  special  warrant  from  the 
highest  executive  authority. 

Now,  what  shadow  of  resemblance  to  all  this, 
can  you  find  in  war  ?  There  is  no  law  to  define 
right;  no  judge  to  interpret  that  law,  or  jury  to 
apply  it ;  no  tribunal  to  try  the  cause :  no  rules 
prescribing-  the  mode  of  trial,  and  requiring  notice 
of  the  complaint,  and  opportunity  for  vindication  ; 
no  charges  duly  preferred ;  no  testimony  give  a 
under  oath,  and  fairly  examined  ;  no  delay  or 
chance  for  the  correction  of  errors ;  no  privilege  of 
appeal  to  a  higher  tribunal :  no  right  to  claim  a 
new  hearing  5  no  hope  of  reprieve  or  pardon  ;  no 
trustworthy  oflicer  to  execute  the  precise  sentence 
of  the  law ;  no  restriction  of  the  penalty  to  the 
exact  demerits  of  the  criminal ;  no  precautions  to 


212  THE    SUPPORTS   OF    WAR. 

guard  the  innocent  against  suffering  with  the 
guilty !  Each  party  makes  a  law  for  itself,  erects 
its  own  tribunal  of  blood,  and  then  proceeds  to  act 
as  accuser  and  witness,  as  counsel,  judge  and  execu 
tioner.  What  a  burlesque  on  all  ideas  of  justice ! 
Justice  by  the  process  of  twenty,  fifty,  or  a  hundred 
thousand  professional  cut-throats,  the  very  blood 
hounds,  of  society,  meeting  on  a  field  of  battle  to 
shoot,  and  stab,  and  hew,  and  trample  each  other 
down  !  What  an  outrage  on  common  sense  to  call 
this  a  judicial  process,  a  mode  of  redress  for  national 
grievances  !  As  well  might  we  call  a  fight  between 
two  madmen,  or  a  dozen  jackals,  a  process  of 
justice ! 


SECTION  II. 

INFLUENCES    THAT    STILL    SUPPORT    THE    CUSTOM    OF    WAR. 

EVERY  argument  for  war  is  a  prop  to  the  custom, 
a  plea  or  apology  for  its  continuance j  but,  besides 
the  direct  arguments  in  its  favor  already  refuted, 
we  wish  to  dwell  on  some  of  those  general  influences 
which  are  most  effectual  in  upholding  this  relic  of 
a  barbarous  paganism. 

War  is  an  inheritance  from  other  times,  the 
bloody  legacy  of  more  than  a  hundred  generations ; 
and  during  the  lapse  of  all  past  ages,  has  it  been 
gathering  influences  to  strengthen  and  perpetuate 
its  terrible  reign.  Antiquity  is  all  in  its  favor  ;  and 
the  ever-flowing  stream  of  time  has  worn  out  for  it 
a  channel  too  broad  and  deep  to  be  easily  changed. 
Incorporated  in  every  form  of  government,  wrought 
into  the  texture  of  all  society,  imbedded  in  the 
strongest  passions  of  our  nature,  indentifying  with 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  213 

Itself  the  sanctities  of  religion,  and  enlisting  in  its 
own  behalf  the  prejudices  of  universal  and  imme 
morial  usage,  we  cannot  wonder  at  the  iron  grasp 
of  this  custom  upon  the  mind  of  the  world,  and  the 
exceeding  difficulty  of  its  abolition. 

This  difficulty  is  much  increased  by  the  general 
mode  of  reasoning  on  the  subject.  Men  do  not 
treat  war  as  they  do  other  forms  of  sin,  nor  hold 
nations  subject  to  the  same  obligations  that  confess 
edly  rest  upon  individuals  and  minor  communities. 
War  is  a  kind  of  moral  outlaw,  and  scorns  all  re 
straints.  It  is  a  priveleged  wrong-doer,  and  acknowl 
edges  no  responsibility  to  man  or  to  God  for  its 
gigantic,  wholesale  crimes.  On  this  subject  govern 
ment  is  supposed  to  be  exempt  from  the  general 
rules  of  right ;  nor  may  we  apply  to  it  here  the  au- 
*  thority  of  God,  or  the  reason  of  men,  the  precepts 
of  religion,  the  principles  of  morality,  or  the  dic 
tates  of  common  sense ;  but  must  in  war  support 
our  rulers,  right  or  wrong,  nor  ever  allow  ourselves 
to  inquire  whether  they  are  right.  Thus  is  war  put 
almost  beyond  the  reach  of  those  influences  which 
suffice  for  the  removal  of  ordinary  evils. 

'•  One  of  the  chief  obstacles  to  the  extinction  of 
war,"  says  Chalmers.  "  is  a  sentiment  whichs  seems  to 
be  universally  gone  into,  that  the  rules  and  prom 
ises  of  the  gospel  which  apply  to  a  single  individual, 
do  not  apply  to  a  nation  of  individuals.  Just  think 
of  the  mighty  effect  it  would  have  on  the  politics 
of  the  world,  were  this  sentiment  to  be  practically 
deposed  from  its  wonted  authority  over  the  counsels 
a,nd  the  doings  of  nations,  in  their  transactions  with 
each  other.  If  forbearance  be  the  virtue  of  an  in 
dividual,  forbearance  is  also  the  virtue  of  a  nation. 
If  it  be  incumbent  on  men  in  honor  to  prefer  each 
other,  it  is  incumbent  on  the  very  largest  societies 
of  men,  through  the  constituted  organ  of  their  gov- 


214  THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

ernment,  to  do  the  same.  If  it  be  the  glory  of  a 
man  to  defer  his  anger,  and  to  pass  over  a  trans 
gression,  that  nation  mistakes  its  glory,  which  is  so 
feelingly  alive  to  the  slightest  insult,  and  musters 
up  its  threats  and  its  armaments  upon  the  faintest 
shadow  of  a  provocation.  If  it  be  the  magnanimity 
of  an  injured  man  to  abstain  from  vengeance,  and 
if  by  so  doing,  he  heaps  coals  of  fire  upon  the  head 
ot'  his  enemy,  then  that  is  the  magnanimous  nation, 
which,  recoiling  from  violence  and  from  blood,  will 
do  no  more  than  send  its  Christian  embassy,  and 
prefer  its  mild  and  impressive  remonstrance ;  and 
that  is  the  disgraced  nation,  which  will  refuse  the 
impressiveness  of  the  moral  appeal  that  has  been 
made  to  it." 

Another  guaranty  for  the  continuance  of  this 
custom,  is  found  in  the  general  apathy  and  want  of  * 
reflection  on  the  subject.  Most  men  neither  know,, 
nor  care  to  know,  much  about  ic.  They  let  it  alone, 
as  a  thing  with  which  they  have  little  or  nothing  to 
do.  They  are  too  ignorant  even  to  feel  their  need 
of  information,  and  will  neither  read  nor  hear. 
They  seldom  reflect  upon  it,  and  hardly  dream  of 
applying  to  it  the  common  principles  of  morality, 
or  the  teachings  of  Christ  and  his  apostles.  Even 
of  educated  men,  not  one  in  ten  thoroughly  under 
stands  it  j  while  the  mass  of  the  community  have 
not  yet  learned  the  alphabet  of  this  vast  and  mo 
mentous  theme.  The  custom  has  been  a  sort  of 
torpedo  to  the  minds  of  most  men,  and  paralyzed 
them  into  a  lazy,  sleepy  assent  to  its  continuance. 

Hence  a  general  lack  of  information  upon  it 
serves  to  keep  up  the  custom.  If  men  only  knew 
what  it  is,  and  what  it  does  ;  if  they  were  well  ac 
quainted  with  the  enormity  of  its  guilt,  and  the 
countless  multitude  of  its  evils  ;  if  they  duly  con 
sidered  how  it  ha&  deluged  the  earth  with  blood,. 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR,  215 

and  crime,  and  misery  for  more  than  five  thousand 
years  ;  if  they  could  realize  that  Christendom  alone 
has  wasted  in  war  blood  enough  to  re-people  the 
whole  earth,  and  treasure  enough  to  purchase  every 
foot  of  its  surface  thrice  over  ;  if  they  would  bear 
in  mind  that  we  ourselves  have  expended  upon  the 
war-system  some  five  or  six  times  as  much  as  for 
all  other  governmental  purposes  put  together  ;  if 
they  would  just  refiect  how  a  war  in  actual  progress 
suspends  commerce,  and  cripples  every  department 
of  gainful  industry,  and  loads  the  nation  with  enor 
mous  debts,  and  sweeps  away  the  bone  and  sinew 
of  its  population  to  feed  this  insatiate  Moloch,  and 
sends  the  voice  of  lamentation  and  sorrow  into 
thousands  of  bereaved  families,  and  demoralizes  the 
whole  community,  and  pours  over  it  a  flood  of  in 
temperance,  vice  and  crime  ;  — if  men  would  only 
make  and  keep  themselves  familiar  with  such  facts, 
could  they  tolerate  this  custom  much  longer  ? 

It  is,  however,  upheld  by  a  variety  of  misconcep 
tions  still  prevalent  even  among  good,  well-informed 
men.  How  many  of  them  suppose  that  the  evil  is 
incurable  for  the  present ;  that  war  is  inevitable, 
like  earthquakes,  and  as  necessary,  now  and  then,  as 
occasional  storms  j  that  society  cannot  exist,  or  its 
highest  welfare  be  secured,  without  the  war-system  ; 
that  patriotism,  morality  and  religion  itself  require 
or  permit  the  custom  ;  that  even  the  God  of  Peace, 
the  common  Father  of  all,  has  authorized  nations  to 
engage  at  will  in  this  work  of  wholesale  robbery, 
murder  and  vengeance  ;  that  the  gospel  itself,  hea 
ven's  own  charter  and  pledge  of  ultimate  peace  to 
the  world,  does  not  forbid  a  custom  which  contra 
venes  its  whole  spirit,  and  tramples  in  the  dust 
every  one  of  its  distinctive  principles  j  but  the  cus 
tom,  as  a  guardian  of  right,  an  avenger  of  wrong, 
and  an  outlet  of  fierce,  lawless  passions,  must  be 


216  THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

tolerated  until  the  millennium  comes.  How  fatally 
must  such  misconceptions  tend  to  grapple  upon  the 
bosom  of  humanity  this  mammoth  incubus  of  guilt 
and  misery  ! 

The  chief  agencies  of  society  are  giving  coun 
tenance  and  currency  to  such  delusions  as  these. 
The  fireside  and  the  school-room,  the  pulpit  and  the 
press,  the  forum,  the  senate  and  the  ballot-box,  all 
have  hitherto  conspired  for  the  most  part  to  uphold, 
to  spread  and  perpetuate  them. 

Mark  especially  how  the  mass  of  every  community 
are  educated  on  this  subject.  It  is  a  war  education. 
Look  at  the  usual  training  of  the  young.  What 
are  the  toys  of  children  ?  Toys  of  war.  What 
pictures  do  they  most  frequently  see  and  admire? 
Pictures  of  war  and  warriors.  What  songs  did 
they  use  most  commonly  to  hear  ?  Songs  of  war. 
Whom  are  they  still  taught  to  hold  in  the  highest 
admiration  ?  Heroes,  men  of  blood.  What  books 
are  now  most  generally,  most  eagerly  read  by  the 
young  ?  Tales,  real  or  fictitious,  of  war  and  war 
riors.  Do  parents,  even  Christian  parents,  carefully 
guard  their  own  children  against  the  manifold  de 
lusions  of  this  custom  ?  Alas !  they  talk  before 
their  little  ones,  ere  the  dawn  of  reason  or  con 
science,  about  the  glories  of  war,  the  trade  of  human 
butchery,  and  train  them,  with  scarce  a  thought  of 
what  they  are  doing,  to  look  upon  it  as  the  great 
theatre  of  man's  noblest  deeds  !  The  surest  means 
are  taken  to  dazzle  and  delude  their  young  minds  in 
its  favor.  When  a  company  of  gayly-dressed  sol 
diers  are  passing  through  the  street,  the  children  who 
are  old  enough,  go  forth  to  gaze  on  the  pageantry, 
and  the  mother  takes  even  her  babe  to  the  window, 
that  he  may  inhale  with  his  first  breath  a  bewitch 
ing  fondness  for  war.  The  glowing  canvass,  and 
the  breathing  marble,  and  the  glittering  sword,  and 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF   WAR  217 

the  gilded  epaulette,  and  the  nodding  plume,  and  the 
prancing  steed,  and  all  the  witchery  of  fife,  and 
idrum,  and  bugle-horn,  are  suffered  to  beguile  the 
young  into  a  blind,  wild  admiration  of  what,  if  seen 
as  it  really  is,  they  would  regard  with  almost  in 
stinctive  disgust  or  abhorrence. 

The  evil  is  well-nigh  universal  Even  pious 
mothers  and  Christian  ministers  will  purchase — - 
once  they  certainly  did — caps,  and  feathers,  and  tin 
swords,  and  wooden  guns,  for  their  own  sons,  and 
then  encourage  them  in  forming  little  companies 
of  juvenile  volunteers,  to  prepare  in  beardless  boy 
hood  for  the  trade  of  blood  !  Thus  have  Christians 
themselves  been,  age  after  age,  scattering  broadcast 
over  Christendom  the  veriest  seeds  of  war,  and  then 
started  back  aghast  to  see  everywhere  springing  up 
such  a  harvest  of  death  as  lately  waved  in  blood 
and  fire  all  over  Europe. 

I  must  avow  it ;  for  on  every  side  do  I  see  at 
work  causes  not  designed,  yet  fatally  calculated  to 
nourish  the  war  spirit,  to  perpetuate  the  war-system, 
and  thus  pave  the  way  for  more  military  Molochs, 
for  other  deluges  of  blood.  Gro  to  many  a  toy-shop, 
kept  perhaps  by  Christians  themselves ;  and  what 
will  you  there  find  ?  A  whole  cart-load  of  war  toys 
— drums,  and  guns,  and  swords,  and  rude  busts  of 
warriors,  and  entire  platoons  of  mounted  horsemen, 
or  armed  footmen,  all  painted  and  gilded,  to  dazzle 
the  minds  of  children  into  a  premature,  unnatural 
fondness  for  war.  Gro  to  the  houses  of  Christians  ; 
and  will  you  there  find  no  portraits  of  ancient  or 
modern  warriors,  no  pictures  of  battles  or  other 
war-scenes  1  Almost  the  only  pictures  I  ever  saw 
in  my  childhood  ;  and,  should  you  go  through  the 
land,  you  would,  I  fear,  find  a  hundred  portraits  of 
Napoleon  to  one  of  such  a  man  as  Brainard, 
or  ScbwartZj  or  Howard. 
19 


218  THE    SUPPORTS   OF   WAR. 

The  whole  system  of  preparations  for  war  seems, 
also,  to  prolong  the  custom.  They  form  a  species 
of  investment  that  interests  society  at  large  in  its 
continuance.  Every  appropriation  for  war  purposes, 
every  military  school,  every  fort  and  war-ship,  every 
regiment  and  every  crew,  every  office  in  the  army 
or  the  navy,  every  pensioner  entailed  by  war  upon 
the  government,  all  are  so  many  arrangements  for 
upholding  the  system ;  and  its  social  ramifications, 
in  a  country  like  England,  interest  in  one  way  or 
another  almost  every  considerable  family  in  its  sup 
port  and  perpetuity. 

These  preparations,  moreover,  nourish  that  spirit 
of  national  honor,  which  forms  the  chief  incentive 
to  war.  "  It  is  difficult,"  says  Sumner,  "  to  define 
what  is  so  evanescent,  so  impalpable,  so  chimerical, 
so  unreal,  and  yet  which  exerts  such  power  over 
many  men,  and  controls  the  relations  of  states. 
Our  community  frowns  with  indignation  upon  the 
profaneness  of  the  duel,  which  has  its  rise  in  this 
irrational  point  of  honor ;  but  are  they  aware  that 
they  themselves  indulge  the  sentiment  on  a  gigan 
tic  scale,  when  they  recognize  what  is  called  the 
honor  of  the  country  as  a  proper  ground  for  war? 
The  point  of  honor  belongs  to  a  semi-barbarous  age ; 
and  let  it  stay  with  the  daggers,  the  swords,  and 
the  weapons  of  combat  by  which  it  was  guarded ; 
let  it  appear  only  with  its  inseparable  companions, 
the  bowie-knife  and  the  pistol!" 

War  is,  also,  upheld  by  a  variety  of  adventitious 
charms.  Addressing  itself  to  the  lowest,  most 
puerile  tastes,  it  flaunts  before  the  multitude  in 
gaudy,  fantastic  decorations.  Its  finery  is  peculiar 
and  proverbial.  "The  soldier,"  says  Channing,  "is 
the  only  harlequin  left  in  the  nineteenth  century." 
Rush  used  to  say,  that  war  could  not  live  without 
its  uniforms ;  and  if  it  had  no  splendid  trappings, 


THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR.  219 

no  inspiring  music,  no  set  days  for  parade  and  dis 
play  ;  if  its  agents  were  simply  enrolled  for  ser 
vice,  as  men  are  for  the  jury-box,  and  called  out  only 
to  do  their  foul  and  bloody  work  ;  if  they  were  then 
to  come  forth  without  fife,  or  drum,  or  bugle,  with 
no  waving  plume,  or  gilded  epaulette,  but  dressed 
appropriately  for  their  work  as  human  butchers, 
or  as  the  hangman  goes  with  halter,  coffin  and  grave 
ready  for  his  victim  ;  how  long  would  men  bear  the 
naked  abomination  ? 

A  multitude  of  higher  influences  are  everywhere 
conspiring  to  perpetuate  this  grand  delusion.  "  On 
every  side  of  me,"  says  Chalmers,  a  I  see  causes 
at  work,  which  go  to  spread  a  most  delusive  color 
ing  over  war,  and  to  remove  its  shocking  barbari 
ties  to  the  background  of  our  contemplations  alto 
gether.  I  see  it  in  the  history  which  tells  me  of 
the  superb  appearance  of  the  troops,  and  the 
brilliancy  of  their  successive  charges.  I  see  it  in 
the  poetry  which  lends  the  magic  of  its  numbers  to 
the  narrative  of  blood,  and  transports  its  many 
admirers,  as  by  its  images,  and  its  figures,  and  its 
nodding  plumes  of  chivalry,  it  throws  its  treacher 
ous  embellishments  over  a  scene  of  legalized  slaugh 
ter.  I  see  it  in  the  music  which  represents  the 
progress  of  the  battle  ;  and  where,  after  being  in 
spired  by  the  trumpet-notes  of  preparation,  the 
whole  beauty  and  tenderness  of  a  drawing-room, 
are  seen  to  bend  over  the  sentimental  entertain 
ment  ;  nor  do  I  hear  the  utterance  of  a  single  sigh 
to  interrupt  the  death-tones  of  the  thickening  con 
test,  and  the  moans  of  the  wounded  men  as  they 
fade  away  upon  the  ear,  and  sink  into  lifeless 
silence.  All,  all  goes  to  prove  what  strange  and 
half-sighted  creatures  we  are." 

There  seems  to  be  a  general  conspiracy  in  sup 
port  of  this  custom.  Public  opinion  is  utterly 


220  THE    SUPPORTS    OF    WAR. 

wrong.  It  canonizes  war,  and  prompts  the  poet  to 
chant  its  praises,  and  the  historian  to  eulogize  its 
deeds  of  blood,  and  the  hand  of  beauty  to  weave 
chaplets  for  its  gory  brow,  and  government  to 
lavish  on  its  agents  large  pay,  liberal  pensions,  and 
the  highest  honors,  both  in  life,  and  after  death. 
Not  a  monument  nor  a  statue,  not  a  peerage  nor  a 
pension  won  by  war,  that  does  not  act  as  a  sentinel 
to  guard  the  custom  alike  from  assault  and  decay. 

War  has  intrenched  itself  in  nearly  all  the  high 
places  of  the  world.  It  has  subsidized  the  hearth, 
the  pulpit  and  the  press,  poetry  and  eloquence, 
philosophy  and  history,  the  harp,  the  chisel,  and 
the  pencil.  Its  mania  has  overspread  the  whole 
earth  ;  its  mighty  spell  has  bound  the  master-minds 
of  every  age ;  and  its  atmosphere  of  death  hangs 
over  all  the  fields  of  ancient  and  modern  literature. 
Scarce  a  poet  or  orator,  historian  or  philosopher  of 
antiquity,  that  did  not  worship  at  the  shrine  of  the 
war-demon,  and  bequeathe  to  posterity  some  memo 
rial  of  his  devotion.  All  history  is  a  virtual  eulogy 
of  war  and  warriors.  The  literature  of  the  world 
reeks  with  the  war-spirit.  It  is  a  vast,  prolific 
nursery  of  war-delusions,  and  does  more  than 
almost  any  one  thing  else  to  keep  the  demon  in 
repute  among  civilized  men.  Go  over  the  fields  of 
literature  ;  and  at  every  step  you  tread  among  the 
scorpions  of  war,  with  every  breath  you  inhale  its 
delicious  infection,  and  are  met  at  every  turn  by 
its  gilded,  glorious,  bewildering  fascinations.  You 
cannot  escape  the  world-wide  atmosphere  of  its 
delusions.  The  richest  banquets  of  taste  and  in 
tellect  are  strongly  spiced  with  the  spirit  of  war. 
The  very  nectar  and  ambrosia  of  ancient  literature 
are  steeped  in  it.  The  plague-spots  are  all  over 
the  noblest  creations  of  genius.  This  moral  gan 
grene  cankers  nearly  all  literature,  and  mars,  more 


PRACTICABILITY    OF    PEACE.  221 

or  less  the  best  specimens  of  ancient  and  modern 
poetry  and  eloquence,  history  and  philosophy. 

Such  are  some  of  the  influences  that  support 
war.  Christendom  itself  is  full  of  them  ;  and  can 
we  wonder  that  the  custom  still  continues,  and  fat 
tens  on  the  very  vitals  even  of  civilized,  Christian 
nations  ?  Such  influences  must  be  swept  away,  or 
held  in  check,  before  this  evil  will  ever  cease  from 
any  portion  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER   II. 

PRACTICABILITY     OF    PEACE,    OR    THE    EVILS    OF     WAR 
NOT    INCURABLE. 

SOME  persons  deny  the  possibility  of  abolishing 
war,  and  tell  us  we  might  as  well  think  to  chain  up 
the  lightning,  or  hold  down  an  earthquake.  Such, 
skepticism  is  neither  new,  nor  peculiar  to  this 
cause.  "  How  apt,'7  says  Dr.  liush,  "  are  mankind 
to  brand  as  visionary  every  proposition  for  innova 
tion.  There  never  was  an  improvement  in  any  art 
or  science,  nor  a  proposal  for  meliorating  the  condi 
tion  of  man,  in  any  age  or  country,  that  has  not 
been  considered  as  an  Utopian  scheme."  The 
present  methods  of  treating  the  small-pox,  fevers, 
and  other  diseases,  were  at  first  viewed,  not  only 
with  distrust,  but  absolute  horror :  and  every  one 
knows,  that  efforts  in  the  cause  of  temperance,  and 
for  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade,  were  for  a  time 
regarded  as  utterly  visionary  and  hopeless.  The 
use  of  the  magnet  in  navigation,  the  application  of 
steam  to  mechanical  purposes,  and  a  multitude  of 
19* 


222  PRACTICABILITY    OF    PEACE. 

inventions  and  improvements  now  familiar  as  house 
hold  words,  were  once  treated  with  utter  incredu 
lity  and  contempt.  Our  own  Congress  refused 
Fulton  the  use  of  the  Representatives'  Hall,  to  ex 
plain  one  part  of  his  scheme  for  applying  steam  to 
navigation.  '  What,'  said  members  of  the  French 
cabinet  to  Fulton,  when  soliciting  their  patronage, 
4  do  you  presume,  sir,  to  think  you  can  ever  propel 
a  boat  by  steam,  at  the  rate  of  four  miles  an  hour  V 
c  Yes,  indeed,'  replied  the  enthusiast;  '  and  if  you'll 
furnish  me  the  means,  I  will  eventually  reach  even 
six  miles  an  hour.'  The  wise  men  of  France 
turned  their  backs  on  the  poor  inventor ;  and  before 
the  lapse  of  one  generation,  thousands  of  steam- 
vessels,  moving  at  the  rate,  not  of  six,  but  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles  an  hour,  are  everywhere  proclaiming 
the  enthusiast  to  have  been  far  wiser  than  the 
skeptic,  and  infinitely  more  useful  to  mankind. 

Let  us  look  at  the  specific  aim  of  this  cause.  It 
seeks  to  diminish  the  frequency  of  war,  to  mitigate 
its  evils  when  it  does  occur,  and  ultimately  to  sweep 
the  custom  itself  first  from  Christendom,  and  finally 
from  the  world. 

On  some  of  these  points  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
We  certainly  can,  if  we  will,  diminish  the  frequency 
of  this  scourge;  and  everybody  knows  that,  since 
the  downfall  of  Napoleon,  wars  have  actually  been 
for  less  frequent.  The  general  peace  of  Christen 
dom  has  continued  for  more  than  thirty  years, 
nearly  all  the  time  since  the  friends  of  peace  began 
their  associated  labors.  We  might  refer  to  some 
cases  in  which  their  special  efforts  for  the  purpose 
did  confessedly  prevent  war  ;  and  the  acknowl 
edged  change  of  public  sentiment  on  the  subject 
through  Christendom,  has  been  the  chief  cause  of 
keeping  the  sword  so  long  in  its  scabbard,  and  of 


PRACTICABILITY    OF    PEACE.  223 

inducing  governments  to  employ  better  means  for 
the  adjustment  of  their  difficulties. 

Nor  would  it  be  a  trifling  gain  merely  to  mitigate 
the  evils  of  war.  This  might  be  done  with  ease, 
and  be  gradually  pushed  to  an  indefinite  extent. 
Already  has  war,  in  the  lapse  of  ages,  lost  some 
of  its  worst  original  features,  atrocities  at  which 
Christendom  would  now  shudder  ;  and  this  process 
of  melioration  might  be  carried  so  far,  as  to  leave 
at  length  a  mere  skeleton  or  shadow  of  its  present 
evils.  The  sages  of  our  revolution  were  so  intent 
on  this  object,  that  the  journals  of  Congress  (1784) 
were  at  times  "  full  of  such  programs  as  now  emanate 
only  from  peace-societies/'  Such  men  as  Franklin 
and  Jefferson  labored  hard,  especially  to  have  pri 
vateering  abolished,  and  the  rights  of  individuals, 
their  persons  and  their  property,  respected  as  much 
on  sea  as  on  land.  Here  is  only  one  among  a  hun 
dred  meliorations  that  might  be  introduced  into 
the  code  of  war  ;  but  this  alone  would  remove  more 
than  half  its  remaining  pecuniary  evils,  and  leave 
the  commerce  and  general  industry  of  the  world  to 
go  on  undisturbed  by  its  ravages. 

But  our  great  and  only  ultimate  aim  is  the  entire, 
perpetual  abolition  of  war.  We  seek  to  supersede 
the  custom  itself,  by  putting  in  its  place  legal, 
Christian  methods  of  justice  and  peace  between 
nations.  We  dream  not  of  accomplishing  all  this  at 
once,  or  ever  without  the  gospel ;  but  we  do  hope,  by 
God's  blessing  on  a  right  application  of  its  pacific 
principles,  to  drive  the  custom  eventually  from 
Christendom,  and  then  to  spread  permanent  peace, 
hand  in  hand  with  our  religion  of  peace,  over  the 
whole  earth. 

Now,  we  contend  that  all  this  may  be  done. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  war-passions  of  mankind, 
nothing  in  the  habits  of  society,  or  the  structure  of 


224  PRACTICABILITY    OF    PEACE. 

government,  nothing  in  the  nature  or  the  long  con 
tinuance  of  this  custom,  nothing  in  all  the  influen 
ces  that  have  so  long  been  accumulating  the  world 
over  for  its  support  and  perpetuity — nothing  in  all 
these,  or  anything  else,  to  forbid  the  hope  of  its 
utter  and  everlasting  extinction. 

War  is  not  a  physical,  but  a  moral  necessity,  only 
such  as  there  is  for  duelling,  intemperance,  or  any 
other  form  of  folly  and  sin.  It  comes  solely  from 
the  wrong  choice  of  men,  and  might  be  prevented 
by  a  general  change  of  that  choice.  It  never 
rushes  upon  them,  like  a  tornado  or  the  cholera, 
like  the  eruptions  of  a  volcano,  or  like  lightning 
from  the  cloud.  A  war  without  men  to  will  it,  and 
carry  it  on,  would  be  a  contradiction  in  terms  ;  and, 
if  so  entirely  dependent  on  their  will,  can  they  not, 
if  they  choose,  discard  forever  this  brutal  mode  of 
settling  their  disputes  ? 

Glance  at  the  history  of  kindred  reforms.  Long 
was  knight-errantry  the  admiration  of  all  Christen 
dom  ;  but  where  is  it  now  ?  Vanished  from  the 
earth,  its  very  name  a  term  of  reproach,  and  its 
memory  living  mainly  in  those  works  of  genius 
which  ridiculed  its  follies  from  the  world.  Nearly 
the  same  might  be  said  of  the  crusades,  and  all 
wars  of  religion,  the  prosecution  of  which  was  once 
regarded  as  the  highest  service  a  Christian  could 
render  the  God  of  peace  !  So  of  trials  by  ordeal, 
and  judicial  combat,  in  which  the  accused  was 
required  to  fight  his  accuser  in  single  encounter,  or 
plunge  his  arm  into  boiling  water,  or  lift  a  red-hot 
iron  with  his  naked  hand,  or  walk  bare-footed  over 
burning  ploughshares,  or  pass  through  other  trials 
equally  severe  and  perilous.  It  were  easy  to  multi 
ply  examples  ;  but  why  allude  to  intemperance,  and 
persecution,  and  witchcraft,  and  other  evils  already 
abolished,  or  put  in  a  train  which  promises  their 


PRACTICABILITY    OP    PEACE.  225 

ultimate  abolition  ?  I  need  not  surely  specify  any 
more  cases  ;  for  if  such  customs  as  these  have 
already  been  wholly,  or  but  partially  done  away, 
is  there  no  possibility  of  putting  an  end  to  war  f 

Review,  next,  the  meliorations  of  war  itself.  Bad 
as  the  custom  still  is,  it  has  already  lost  more  than 
half  its  primitive  horrors,  and  undergone  changes 
much  greater  than  would  now  suffice  to  abolish  it 
entirely.  Its  former  atrocities  are  well-nigh  incred 
ible.  Belligerents  employed  whatever  means  would 
best  subserve  their  purposes  of  conquest,  plunder 
or  revenge.  They  poisoned  wells,  and  butchered 
men,  women  and  children,  without  distinction. 
They  spared  none.  Prisoners  they  massacred  in 
cold  blood,  or  tortured  with  the  most  exquisite  cru 
elty  ;  and,  when  unable  to  reduce  a  fortiiied  place, 
they  would  sometimes  collect  before  it  a  multitude 
of  these  victims,  and,  putting  them  all  to  the  sword, 
leave  their  carcasses  unburied,  that  the  stench  might 
compel  the  garrison  to  retire  !  Such  atrocities  were 
practised  by  the  most  polished  nations  of  antiquity. 
In  Rome,  prisoners  were  either  sold  as  slaves,  or 
put  to  death  at  pleasure.  Kings  and  nobles,  women 
and  children  of  high  birth,  chained  to  the  victor's 
car,  were  dragged  in  triumph  through  the  streets, 
and  then  doomed  to  a  cruel  death,  or  left  to  end 
their  days  in  a  severe  and  hopeless  bondage  ;  while 
others  less  distinguished,  were  compelled,  as  gladi 
ators,  to  butcher  one  another  by  hundreds  for  the 
amusement  of  Roman  citizens  !  But  such  barbari 
ties  are  indignantly  discarded  from  the  present 
war  system  of  Christendom  ;  and  if  thus  ten  steps 
have  already  been  taken —  they  confessedly  have  — 
towards  abolishing  this  custom,  is  there  no  possi 
bility  of  taking  the  six  more  that  alone  are  requi 
site  to  complete  its  abolition  ? 

Still  more  ;  certain  kinds  of  war  have  actually 


226  PRACTICABILITY    OF    PEACE. 

been  abolished.  Private  or  feudal  wars,  once  waged 
between  the  petty  chieftains  of  Europe,  and  fre 
quently  occasioning  even  more  mischief  than  flows 
now  from  the  collision  of  empires,  continued  for 
centuries  to  make  the  very  heart  of  Chtistendom  a 
scene  of  confusion  and  terror.  There  was  no  safety, 
no  repose.  Every  baron  claimed  the  right,  just  as 
nations  now  do,  of  warring  against  his  neighbor  at 
pleasure.  His  castle  was  his  fortress,  and  every 
one  of  his  vassals  a  soldier,  bound  to  take  the  field 
at  the  bidding  of  his  lord.  War  was  their  busi 
ness  ;  and  all  Europe  they  kept  in  ceaseless  com 
motion  or  alarm.  The  evil  seemed  intolerable  ;  and 
finally,  emperors  and  popes,  magistrates  and  priests, 
rulers  and  citizens,  all  combined  against  it,  and  suc 
ceeded,  after  the  lapse  of  four  or  five  centuries,  in 
exterminating  a  species  of  war  as  dreadful  as  any 
that  ever  scourged  our  world.  And  would  not  sim 
ilar  efforts  bring  international  wars  to  an  end  ? 

Glance  at  some  of  the  causes  now  at  work  for 
such  a  result.  I  cannot  here  pause  even  to  name  a 
tithe  of  these  causes ;  arid  it  must  for  the  present 
suffice  to  know,  that  all  the  means  of  general  im 
provement,  all  the  good  influences  of  the  age,  are 
so  many  handmaids  to  the  cause  of  peace,  and  har 
bingers  of  its  universal  spread  and  triumph.  The 
progress  of  freedom,  and  popular  education  ; — the 
growing  influence  of  the  people,  always  the  chief 
sufferers  from  war,  over  every  form  of  government ; 
— the  vastly  augmented  power  of  public  opinion, 
fast  becoming  more  and  more  pacific  ; — the  spirit 
of  free  inquiry,  and  the  wide  diffusion  of  knowledge 
through  presses,  and  pulpits,  and  schools  • — the 
disposition  to  force  old  usages,  institutions  and 
opinions  through  the  severest  ordeals  ; — the  various 
improvements  which  philanthropy,  genius,  and  even 
avarice  itself,  are  everywhere  making  in  the  char- 


PRACTICABILITY    OF    PEACE.  227 

acter  and  condition  of  mankind,  all  demanding 
peace  ; — the  actual  disuse  of  war,  and  the  marked 
desire  of  rulers  themselves  to  supersede  it  by  the 
adoption  of  pacific  expedients  that  promise  ere 
long  to  re-construct  the  international  policy  of  the 
civilized  world  ; — the  pacific  tendencies  of  litera- 
vure,  science,  and  all  the  arts  that  minister  to  indi 
vidual  comfort,  or  national  prosperity  ; — the  more 
frequent,  more  extended  intercourse  of  Christians 
and  learned  men  in  different  parts  of  the  earth  ; — 
the  wide  extension  of  commerce,  and  the  consequent 
inter-linking  over  the  globe  of  interests  which  war 
must  destroy  ; — the  rapid  spread  of  the  gospel  in 
pagan  lands,  the  fuller  development  of  its  spirit  in 
Christendom,  and  the  more  direct,  more  efficacious 
application  of  its  principles  to  every  species  of  sin 
and  misery  ; — all  the  enterprises  of  associated  be 
nevolence  and  reform,  but  especially  the  combined 
efforts  made  to  disseminate  the  principles  of  peace, 
to  pour  the  full  light  of  heaven  on  the  guilt  and 
evils  of  war,  and  thus  unite  the  friends  of  Grod  and 
man  everywhere  against  this  master-scourge  of  our 
race  ; — such  are  some  of  the  influences  now  at  work 
for  the  world's  perpetual  peace. 

Nor  have  these  causes  been  at  work  in  vain. 
"  Already,"  says  Ware,  "  is  the  process  begun,  by 
which  Jehovah  is  going  to  fulfil  the  amazing  predic 
tions  of  his  word.  Even  now  is  the  fire  kindled  at 
the  forges  where  swords  are  yet  to  be  beaten  into 
ploughshares,  and  spears  into  pruning-hooks.  The 
teachers  are  already  abroad  who  shall  persuade  the 
nations  to  learn  war  no  more.  If  we  would  hasten 
that  day,  we  have  only  to  throw  ourselves  into  the 
current,  and  we  may  row  with  the  tide.  There 
may  be,  here  and  there,  a  counter-current ;  but  the 
main  stream  is  flowing  steaiily  on,  and  the  order 
of  Providence  is  rolling  forward  the  sure  result." 


228  PRACTICABILITY    OF    PEACE. 

The  gospel,  rightly  applied,  is  amply  sufficient 
for  such  a  result.  It  is  God's  own  power  at  work 
for  the  world's  eventual  deliverance  from  all  forms 
of  error,  sin  and  misery.  There  is  no  passion  it 
cannot  subdue,  no  vice  it  cannot  reform,  no  evil 
custom  it  cannot  abolish,  no  moral  malady  it  cannot 
cure,  no  inveteracy  of  error  or  sin  from  which  it 
cannot  reclaim.  Its  history,  as  well  as  its  nature, 
proves  its  power  ;  and  a  libel  would  it  be  on  God 
himself,  to  suppose  his  chosen  instrument  for  a 
world's  spiritual  renovation,  inadequate  to  the  task 
of  exterminating  war  from  every  land  blest  with 
its  heavenly  light,  and  eventually  from  the  whole 
earth. 

On  this  point  God  has  taken  care  to  leave  no 
room  for  doubt.  Expressly,  repeatedly  has  he 
promised,  that  '  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the 
knowledge  of  his  name,  even  as  the  waters  cover 
the  sea  ;  that  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  shall  all 
become  the  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  Je 
sus  Christ ;'  and  then  '  shall  they  beat  their  swords 
into  ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into  pruning- 
hooks  ;  nation  shall  no  longer  lift  up  sword  against 
nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more.' 
Thus  has  God  promised  the  world's  eventual  pacifi 
cation  as  explicitly  as  he  has  the  world's  conversion, 
or  even  the  salvation  of  any  believer  in  Jesus  ;  and 
we  must  either  discard  the  whole  Bible,  or  believe 
in  the  possibility,  the  absolute  certainty  of  univer 
sal  and  permanent  peace. 

It  is  not  incumbent  on  us  to  show  how  these  pro 
phecies  are  to  be  fulfilled  ;  and  yet  it  were  easy  to 
point  out  a  variety  of  expedients  that  might,  with 
safety  and  success,  take  the  place  of  war.  There  is 
in  truth  no  more  need  of  this  custom  among  Chris 
tian  nations  than  there  is  of  paganism  itself.  They 
could,  if  they  would,  settle  all  their  difficulties  with- 


SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR.  229 

out  war,  as  well  as  tlie  members  of  a  church  can 
theirs  without  duels.  There  is  no  impossibility  in 
the  case.  Substitutes  far  better  than  the  sword  for 
all  purposes  of  protection  and  redress,  might  be 
made  to  supersede  entirely  the  alleged  necessity  of 
war  between  nations.  Once,  individuals  had  no 
other  means  than  brute  force  for  the  redress  of 
their  wrongs,  or  the  adjustment  of  their  difficulties; 
but,  if  that  old  practice  of  private  wars  gave  place, 
ages  ago,  to  codes  and  courts  of  law  between  indi 
viduals,  it  is  equally  possible  for  nations,  if  they 
choose,  to  provide  similar  methods  for  the  settle 
ment  of  their  disputes  without  the  effusion  of 
blood. 


CHAPTER   III. 

SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR. 

ALL  our  methods  of  peace,  or  substitutes  for 
war,  resolve  themselves  into  the  simple  principle  of 
having  nations  adjust  their  difficulties  as  individ 
uals  do  theirs.  The  latter,  when  any  dispute  arises, 
either  agree  between  themselves,  or  refer  the  case 
to  umpires  mutually  chosen,  or  carry  it  into  a  court 
of  law  for  a  fair  and  equitable  decision ;  and,  in 
pursuance  of  the  same  policy,  nations  should  first 
employ  negotiation,  next  resort,  by  arbitration  or 
mediation,  to  some  form  of  amicable  reference,  or, 
better  than  all.  should  establish  a  system  of  justice 
between  nations,  like  our  codes  and  courts  of  law 
for  individuals.  Some  of  these  expedients  are  oc 
casional,  others  would  be  permanent ;  and  we  will 
just  glance  at  each  of  these  classes. 
20 


230  SUBSTITUTES    FOU    WAR 


SECTION  I. 

TEMPORARY    SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR. 

THE  first  of  these  temporary  expedients,  then9 
would  be  NEGOTIATION.  So  long  as  nations  keep 
cool  and  kind  enough  to  adjust  their  own  difficul 
ties,  this  method  is  decidedly  the  best  of  all.  If 
they  made  the  sword  really  their  last  resort,  instead 
of  their  first ;  or  if  popular  sentiment  should  al 
ways  hold  them  back  from  conflict  till  mutual 
forbearance,  explanation  and  concession,  had  ex 
hausted  their  utmost  power,  this  expedient  alone 
wouliJ,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  prevent  an  appeal 
to  arms. 

Our  next  resort  would  be  to  ARBITRATION  ;  a 
substitute  adopted  when  the  parties  are  unable  to 
adjust  their  own  difficulties,  or  prefer  the  decision  of 
an  impartial  umpire.  Better  for  the  parties  to  agree 
among  themselves,  if  they  can  ;  but,  if  they  can 
not,  nations  should  in  every  case  settle  their  dis 
putes  by  some  mode  of  reference.  Nor  is  there 
any  objection  in  their  case,  that  would  not  apply  to 
individuals  ;  for  it  is  just  as  feasible  and  safe,  as 
equitable  and  honorable,  for  the  former  as  for  the 
latter. 

But  there  is  another  form  of  reference  in  the 
principle  of  MEDIATION.  When  rulers  become  so 
exasperated  against  each  other,  as  to  withdraw 
from  official  intercourse,  and  the  strange,  semi-bar 
barous  code  of  national  honor  requires  them  to  keep 
aloof,  or  to  meet  only  on  the  field  of  battle,  a  third, 
power,  friendly  to  both,  occasionally  interposes  with 
the  offer  of  its  services  as  mediator.  Such  services 
the  parties  are  now  bound  in  courtesy  to  accept ; 


SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR.  231 

and  this  simple  expedient,  a  new  development  of 
the  pacific  tendencies  of  the  age,  promises  to  obvi 
ate  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  cases  of  misun 
derstanding.  It  is  well  known,  that  duellists  can 
not  fight  so  long  as  a  mutual  friend  stands  between 
them  as  mediator  ;  and,  if  so  effectual  for  the  pre 
vention  of  duels,  the  principle,  equally  applicable  to 
war,  would  be  likely  to  prove  still  more  successful 
here,  from  the  longer  delay  necessary,  from  the 
greater  publicity  of  the  transaction,  and  from  the 
overwhelming  majority  on  both  sides  interested  in 
a  peaceful  issue  of  the  dispute.  Thus  might  a 
single  cabinet,  by  the  well-timed  tender  of  its  ser 
vices,  hold  in  check  the  war-spirit  of  the  whole 
civilized  world,  and  do  much  to  keep  its  nations  in 
permanent  peace. 

Another  occasional  substitute  for  war  is  NON- 
INTERCOURSE.  If  a  neighbor  habitually  maltreats 
us,  and  will  neither  make  reparation,  nor  come  to 
any  reasonable  terms,  we  sometimes  find  it  best 
simply  to  let  him  alone,  and  have  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  him,  until  he  proves  himself  worthy  of 
our  renewed  confidence  and  intercourse.  So  the 
church,  and  all  voluntary  associations,  when  a  mem 
ber  can  no  longer  be  tolerated  within  their  pale, 
merely  exclude  him,  and  leave  him  to  the  recoil  of 
his  own  misdeeds.  The  principle  is  equally  appli 
cable  to  nations.  If  a  government  neglects  its 
treaty-engagements,  or  violates  in  other  respects  the 
law  of  riations,  and  persists  in  its  refusal  to  make 
due  reparation,  it  would  be  far  better  to  withdraw 
from  all  intercourse  with  a  nation  so  unreasonable, 
and  wait  for  the  frowns  of  the  world,  and  a  return 
ing  sense  of  justice  and  self  respect  to  set  them 
right,  than  to  embroil  scores  of  innocent  mill 
ions  in  war.  Such  a  contest  would  soon  hide  or 
change  the  real,  original  issue,  while  non-inter- 


232  SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR. 

course  would  keep  that  issue  steadily  before  all 
men,  and  thus  concentrate  the  rays  of  truth,  and 
right,  and  public  opinion,  in  a  burning  focus  upon 
the  offender's  conscience.  It  could  do  very  little 
injury  in  comparison  with  war.  while  it  would  be 
likely  to  accomplish  far  more  good.  Had  France, 
in  1835,  persisted  in  her  refusal  to  pay  the  five 
million  dollars  confessedly  due  to  us,  such  a  course 
as  this  would  in  time  have  secured  the  payment ; 
but,  had  we  gone  to  war  for  it,  she  would  have 
fought  till  doomsday  before  she  would  have  paid  a 
farthing.  To  this  principle  of  non-intercourse  as 
a  pacific  measure,  or  substitute  for  war  in  extreme 
cases,  Jefferson  gave  the  seal  of  his  approbation  and 
example. 


SECTION  II. 

PERMANENT   SUBSTITUTES   FOR   WAR. 

I.     Stipulated  Arbitration. 

NOT  content  with  palliatives,  we  seek  effectual 
remedies  for  war  ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  we  urge  the 
adoption  of  permanent  substitutes.  The  first  of 
these  is  stipulated  arbitration ;  by  which  we  mean, 
that  nations  incorporate  in  every  treaty  a  clause, 
binding  themselves  to  adjust  whatever  difficulties 
may  arise  between  them,  in  no  case  by  the  sword, 
but  always  by  reference  to  umpires  mutually 
chosen,  and  agree  either  to  abide  by  their  decision, 
or  to  claim,  if  dissatisfied,  only  a  new  hearing,  or  a 
different  reference. 

To  such  a  substitute,  what  objection  can  be 
urged  ?  It  relinquishes  no  right ;  it  sacrifices  no 
interest ;  it  would  startle  few,  if  any  prejudices  ; 


SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR.  233 

it  can  offend  neither  the  strong  nor  the  moderate 
peace-man,  neither  the  Quaker  nor  the  warrior;  it 
is  adapted  to  the  present  state  of  the  world,  and 
consistent  alike  with  the  precepts  of  Christianity, 
and  the  dictates  of  sound  policy ;  a  measure  level 
to  the  comprehension  of  all,  and  commending  itself 
to  their  common  sense  as  simple,  feasible,  and  likely 
to  prove  successful. 

The  plan  speaks  for  itself.  Common  sense  de 
cides,  that  no  man  should  be  allowed  to  judge  in 
his  own  case;  and  this  principle  is  quite  as  appli 
cable  to  communities  as  to  individuals.  The  for 
mer,  equally  liable  to  all  the  influences  that  bias  the 
judgment,  and  lead  to  wrong  conclusions,  should 
never  be  permitted,  any  more  than  individuals,  to 
act  as  witness,  jury  and  judge  in  their  own  case. 
Nor  is  this  principle  new  or  untried.  It  is  as  old 
as  human  society  ;  it  has  been  acted  upon  more  or 
less  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  civilization  ;  we  often 
find  the  wisest  and  best  men  preferring  it  even  to  a 
regular  course  of  law,  for  the  adjustment  of  their 
own  differences  ;  and  we  simply  ask,  tht  t  nations 
should  exercise  an  equal  degree  of  sense,  candor 
and  justice,  by  referring  their  disputes,  in  like  man 
ner,  to  competent  and  impartial  arbiters. 

The  same  principle  lies  at  the  bottom  of  all  our 
courts.  Every  trial  in  them  is  a  reference.  No 
litigant  is  allowed  to  decide,  or  even  to  testify  in 
his  own  case  ;  but  he  must,  whether  willing  or  un 
willing,  submit  to  the  ju  igment  of  his  peers  on  the 
testimony  of  credible  witnesses.  Nor  has  he  any 
direct  voice  in  the  selection  of  his  arbiters  ;  society 
chooses  them  for  him  ;  and  before  a  judge  and  jury 
thus  appointed,  he  is  compelled  to  go,  and  abide 
their  decision.  Such  is  the  ordinary  course  of  jus 
tice,  the  common,  legal  mode  of  reference  ;  and 
ought  not  governments,  in  the  adjustment  of  their 
20* 


234  SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR. 

difficulties,  to  act  on  principles  as  equitable  and 
elevated,  as  those  which  they  prescribe  to  their  own 
subjects  ?  Shall  common  sense,  common  honesty, 
the  established  vules  of  right  and  wrong,  never  be 
extended  to  the  intercourse  of  nations? 

In  behalf  of  this  plan,  we  might  quote  the  high 
est  authorities,  the  voice  of  public  opinion  fast 
growing  in  favor  of  the  principle,  and  the  example 
of  nearly  all  Christendom,  now  beginning  to  adopt 
it  in  some  form  as  their  last  resort,  instead  of  the 
sword.  Do  you  deem  it  disreputable?  It  cer 
tainly  cannot  be  more  so  than  occasional  reference, 
which  all  the  world  approve.  Dp  you  say  that  na 
tions  cannot,  or  should  not.  thus  pledge  themselves 
in  advance,  ?  They  do  and  must  in  every  treaty. 
Such  a  pledge  is  quite  as  proper  in  the  former  as 
in  the  latter  case,  and  is  just  the  thing  we  need  to 
prevent  a  sudden,  passionate  rush  to  arms.  Do 
you  plead  that  arbitration  is  at  best  uncertain  ? 
Not  half  so  much  so  as  war  confessedly  is.  Do 
you  say  you  can  judge  for  yourselves?  So  can 
the  other  party ;  but,  since  you  differ,  and  conse 
quently  cannot  both  be  right,  nor  each  have  his 
own  way,  how  shall  the  dispute  be  settled  ?  Can 
you  find  a  cheaper,  juster,  surer  way,  than  reference 
to  umpires  in  whom  you  both  have  confidence,  and 
before  whom  you  are  allowed  a  full  and  fair  hear 
ing  ? 

II.     A  Congress  of  Nations. 

1.  Outlines. — We  shall  not  enter  into  the  details 
of  a  plan  for  a  congress  of  nations.  We  are  not 
sticklers  for  any  particular  plan  or  name,  but  pro 
pose  merely  to  incorporate  the  grand  principle  of 
reference  in  some  standing  tribunal  for  the  peaceful 
adjustment  of  all  international  difficulties. 


SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR*.  235 

This  plan  includes  two  measures — one  temporary, 
the  other  settled  and  permanent.  We  would  first 
have  a  diplomatic  congress  of  nations,  a  grand  con 
vention  of  delegates  plenipotentiary,  from  all  parts 
of  the  civilized  world,  that  could  be  brought  into  the 
measure,  to  deliberate  and  agree  upon  a  code  of  in 
ternational  law.  We  would  have  them  invested, 
like  ambassadors,  with  power,  not  to  establish  such 
a  code  themselves,  but  merely  to  recommend  its 
principles  in  detail  to  their  respective  governments 
for  their  adoption  or  rejection. — The  next  measure 
would  be  the  establishment  of  an  international  tri 
bunal  to  interpret  that  code,  and  adjudicate  what 
ever  cases  any  nations  in  dispute  might  refer  to 
their  decision.  Its  jurisdiction  should  extend  only 
to  matters  connected  with  the  intercourse  of  na 
tions  ;  and  no  case  should  come  before  it  except  by 
consent  and  choice  of  parties.  Its  decisions  should 
be  final,  and  preclude,  by  mutual  agreement,  all 
right  of  appealing  to  any  further  means  of  adjust 
ment,  except  a  new  hearing,  an  amicable  consulta 
tion,  or  reference  to  special  umpires  mutually  cho 
sen.  Its  decrees,  however,  should  be  merely  ad 
visory.  Whether  legislative  or  judicial,  they  should 
bind  no  party  without  their  consent,  and  depend  for 
success  entirely  on  the  high  repute  of  the  tribunal, 
on  the  obvious  equity  of  its  decisions,  and  the  strong 
tide  of  public  opinion  in  their  favor.  It  should  act 
as  a  diet  of  ambassadors,  to  mature  terms  for  the 
ratification  of  their  respective  constituents,  or  as  a 
board  of  referees,  whose  arbitrament  the  parties 
would  still  be  at  liberty  to  accept  or  reject.  Nor 
should  its  sanctions  ever  include  or  involve  a  resort 
to  the  sword.  Its  decrees  should  be  enforced  only 
by  moral  or  peaceful  means.  Penalties  there  might 
be  ;  but  they  should  all  be  pacific,  and  consist  in  the 
recoil  of  public  opinion,  in  the  withdrawal  of  friend- 


236  SUBSTITUTES  FOR  WAR. 

ly  intercourse,  or  the  curtailment  of  commercial  and 
other  privileges. 

These  outlines  should  be  constantly  borne  in 
mind;  for  they  obviate  most  of  the  objections  hith 
erto  brought  against  the  project  of  a  Congress  of 
nations,  and  would  at  least  render  such  a  tribunal 
perfectly  harmless. 

2.  Objects  sought. — Our  plan  would,  in  time, 
secure  a  variety  of  results  highly  important  to  the 
welfare  of  nations.  It  would  seek  mainly  to  pre- 
eerve  peace  without  the  sword  ;  but  this  is  only  one 
among  the  multitude  of  its  legitimate  results.  It 
would  perform  for  the  kingdoms  associated  no  small 
part  of  the  services  that  our  own  Congress  does  for 
the  different  members  of  our  republic,  and  would 
thus  have  three  distinct  departments  of  duty — to 
settle  and  complete  the  law  of  nations,  to  adjust  all  dis 
putes  between  them  without  an  appeal  to  the  sword,  and 
direct  their  intercourse  and  combined  energies  in  ways 
best  adapted  to  the  improvement,  prosperity  and  •  happi 
ness  of  t lie  whole  human  race. 

Few  are  aware  how  unsettled  and  imperfect  is  the 
present  law  of  nations.  We  have  in  truth  no  such 
law ;  and  what  passes  under  the  name,  is  of  recent 
origin,  and  insufficient  authority.  It  is  only  a  com 
pilation  of  precedents,  opinions  and  arguments.  It 
is  the  work,  not  of  legislators,  but  of  scholars  ;  no 
law-making  power  was  ever  concerned  in  enacting 
any  of  its  statutes  ;  and  all  its  authority  has  resulted 
from  the  deference  spontaneously  paid  to  the  genius, 
erudition  and  wisdom  of  its  compilers.  It  is  not 
law,  but  argument ;  not  decrees,  but  rules  ;  not  a 
code,  but  a  treatise  ;  and  the  nations  are  at  liberty, 
except  from  the  force  of  custom  and  public  opinion, 
to  adopt  or  reject  it  as  they  please.  A  uniform, 
authoritative  code  of  international  law  is  still  a  de 
sideratum  ;  to  supply  this  deficiency  would  be  one 


SUBSTITUTES   FOR   WAR.  237 

of  the  first  and  highest  duties  of  the  tribunal  we 
propose  ;  and  a  mere  glance  at  the  subjects  which 
would  thus  come  before  it,  must  suffice  to  show  its 
necessity  and  vast  importance. 

Our  limits  will  hardly  allow  us  even  to  name 
these  subjects — such  as  articles  contraband  of  war ; 
— protection  of  neutral  commerce  ; — security  of  pri 
vate  property  in  war; — the  rights  and  rules  of  block 
ade] — right  of  search  and  impressment; — protection 
of  non-combatants; — property  in  navigable  rivers; — 
the  armed  interposition  of  one  nation  in  the  domes 
tic  affairs  of  another  : — right  of  interference  with  a 
nation  at  war ; — passage  of  belligerents  through  a 
neutral  territory  ; — surrender  of  fugitives  from  jus 
tice  or  oppression — various  meliorations  of  war  ; — 
measures  for  the  entire  extinction  of  the  custom  ; — 
the  settlement  of  national  boundaries  ; — the  regula 
tion  of  cartels,  and  flags  of  truce  ; — the  rules  and 
rates  of  salvage; — the  improvement  and  expansion 
of  commerce  ; — the  adoption  of  some  common  stand 
ard  of  weights  and  measures ; — the  interpretation 
of  treaties  by  definite  and  established  rules : — the 
naturalization  of  foreigners,  and  the  transfer  of 
their  allegiance  ; — the  determination  of  what  shall 
be  deemed  the  inalienable  rights  of  man,  such  as 
life,  liberty  of  conscience,  and  the  use  of  his  own 
powers  ; — the  reconcilement  of  laws  that  come  into 
conflict  in  the  intercourse  of  nations,  such  as  those 
respecting  contracts,  majority,  evidence,  and  the 
law  of  domicile  ; — improvements  in  various  parts  of 
the  international  code  ; — measures  in  common  for 
the  relief  of  suffering  nations,  and  for  the  suppres 
sion  or  punishment  of  such  practices  as  torture,  in 
fanticide,  human  sacrifices,  the  slave-trade,  and  sim 
ilar  outrages  upon  humanity. 

For  the  sake  of  a  brief  illustration,  just  glance  at 
one  or  two  of  these  topics.  Take  the  question  of 


238  SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR. 

blockade.  The  law  of  nations  is  very  loose  on  this 
subject ;  the  practice  of  belligerents  has  taken  a 
still  wider  license  ;  and  the  exigencies  of  the  case 
call  aloud  for  some  means  to  prevent  the  repetition 
of  such  outrages.  Some  writers  have  questioned 
the  propriety,  under  any  circumstances,  of  block 
ade  against  neutrab  ;  but,  right  or  wrong,  it  ought 
certainly  to  be  restrained  from  that  immense  sweep 
of  mischief  to  which  it  has  so  often  aspired  in 
modern  times.  All  the  ports  of  a  nation,  most  of 
those  skirting  an  entire  continent,  have,  by  a  mere 
stroke  of  the  pen,  been  closed  against  all  neutral 
vessels.  England  once  declared  the  whole  coast  of 
France  to  be  under  blockade,  and  Napoleon  in  re 
turn  did  the  same  to  all  England,  without  a  fleet 
in  either  case  sufficient  to  enforce  a  tenth  part  of 
the  blockade.  It  was  a  mere  scare-crow,  a  block 
ade  only  on  paper,  a  shallow  pretence  for  licensing 
a  species  of  wholesale  piracy ;  yet  did  an  English 
admiral,  in  the  late  war  between  Great  Britain  and 
ourselves,  declare  our  whole  coast,  two  thousand 
miles  in  extent,  under  blockade,  without  a  twen 
tieth  part  of  the  ships  requisite  to  enforce  a  block 
ade  so  extensive.  The  evils  of  such  a  practice 
must  be  immense  ;  for  the  blockade  of  a  single 
port  might  cripple  the  commerce  of  the  world. 

There  is  an  obvious  and  urgent  necessity  for 
something  like  a  Congress  of  nations.  The  defi 
ciencies  of  their  present  code  can  never  be  sup 
plied,  the  evils  now  incident  to  their  intercourse 
never  be  remedied,  and  their  highest  welfare,  or 
their  perfect  safety  secured,  without  some  tribunal 
of  the  kind  as  their  acknowledged  lawgiver  and 
judge.  No  treatises  on  the  law  of  nations,  no  "decis 
ions  of  admiralty  courts,  no  treaty  stipulations,  no 
rectitude,  capacity  or  vigilance  of  rulers,  no  degree 
of  intelligence  or  honesty  among  the  people,  no 


SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR.  .         239 

force  of  custom  or  public  opinion,  can  ever  meet 
all  the  exigencies  of  the  case,  and  thus  supersede 
the  necessity  of  an  international  tribunal  for  the 
various  and  vastly  important  purposes  already  sug 
gested.  Can  such  a  chasm  in  the  wants  of  the 
world  never  be  filled  ? 

OBJECTIONS. — '  Public  opinion  is  not  yet  ripe  for 
such  a  measure.'  Then  let  us  make  it  so.  It  is  in 
some  degree  prepared  even  now  for  the  measure ; 
and  soon  might  the  wise  and  good,  by  the  right 
use  of  means  within  their  reach,  form  through 
Christendom  such  a  public  sentiment  as  would 
ere-long  secure  this  or  some  other  permanent  sub 
stitute  for  war.  Public  opinion  is  certainly  ripe 
enough  to  start  in  earnest  the  train  of  efforts  in 
dispensable  to  the  final  accomplishment  of  our 
object. 

'  We  have  other  means  now  in  use  sufficient  for  the 
preservation  of  peace.'  True,  they  might  suffice ; 
but  they  do  not  in  fact  supersede  war.  So  might 
similar  means  suffice  for  the  adjustment  of  all  dis 
putes  between  individuals  ;  but  we  still  deem  it 
expedient,  if  not  necessary,  to  have  our  codes  and 
courts  of  law.  In  spite  of  all  methods  now  in  use^ 
the  war-system  still  continues,  and  we  wish  to  in 
troduce  a  substitute  that  shall  actually  supersede 
it  entirely  and  forever. 

*  Christendom  is  unwilling  to  give  up  the  war-sys 
tem.'  If  rulers  are.  the  people  are  not ;  and  the 
results  of  the  French  Revolution  made  even  the 
sturdiest  despots  anxious  for  peace  as  their  only 
security.  All  Europe,  crushed  beneath  the  enor 
mous  burdens  of  war,  is  even  now  panting  for 
release  in  some  way  from  its  evils,  and  would  hail 
with  joy  any  effectual  antidote  or  remedy. 

4  But  diversities  of  language,  and  religion,  and 
manners,  and  government,  and  pursuits,  would  sure- 


240  SUBSTITUTES    FOR.   WAR. 

ly  defeat  the  object.'  None  of  these  would  oppose 
insuperable,  or  very  serious  impediments,  to  the 
slight  degree  of  union  required  in  such  a  confed 
eracy.  Not  a  few  of  them  were  overcome  in  the 
formation  of  our  own  general  government ;  and 
they  were  all  found  in  the  Diet  of  Switzerland, 
where  each  of  the  twenty-two  cantons  is  internally 
as  independent  as  any  nation  on  earth;  where  the 
form  of  government  varies  from  the  purest  de 
mocracy  to  the  stiffest  aristocracy,  and  where  the 
people  differ  in  language,  manners  and  religion. 

'  Such  a  tribunal  would  be  dangerous.'  To  whom 
or  what  ?  Would  it  trample  on  the  weak  ?  It 
would  have  no  power  for  such  a  purpose :  but  its 
first  care  would  be  to  guard  them  against  encroach 
ment  and  abuse.  Would  it  endanger  liberty  and 
popular  governments  ?  Called  into  existence  by 
their  voice,  it  would  become  of  course  a  servant  to 
their  wishes,  and  a  guardian  of  their  rights  and 
interests.  Would  it  interfere  with  the  domestic 
concerns  of  states  ?  It  would  itself  be  the  surest 
check  upon  such  interference.  Would  it  become  a 
conclave  of  political  intrigue,  and  serve  only  to  em 
broil  the  nations  ?  History  refutes  the  charge  ;  and 
the  supposition  is  just  as  absurd  as  it  would  be  to 
expect  that  ambassadors,  appointed  to  negotiate 
peace,  would  only  foment  new  wars.  Would  it 
become  a  tool  in  the  hands  of  some  future  Alexan 
der  or  Napoleon,  to  subjugate  all  Christendom  ? 
Such  monsters  are  the  offspring  only  of  war  ;  and 
the  peaceful  policy  inseparable  from  a  congress  of 
nations,  would  put  an  end  forever  to  the  whole  brood. 
By  what  process  then  could  such  a  tribunal  be  thus 
perverted  ?  With  no  fleets  or  armies  at  their  com 
mand,  with  no  offices  of  emolument  or  honor  to 
bestow,  with  no  right  to  touch  any  subject  not  sub 
mitted  to  them  by  their  constituents,  how  could 


SUBSTITUTES   FOR    WAR.  241 

such  a  body  become  an  engine  of  conquest,  tyranny 
and  blood  'I 

c  Composed  chiefly  of  representatives  from  mon 
archies,  such  a  tribunal  would,  at  all  events,  be  un 
friendly,  if  not  dangerous  to  republican  govern 
ments.'  We  see  not  how  it  could  be ;  for  it  would 
have  no  power  to  interfere  with  the  internal  affairs 
of  any  government,  or  to  sit  in  judgment  on  any 
dispute  not  voluntarily  referred  to  it  by  the  parties. 
No  nation  would  be  bound  by  any  of  its  decisions, 
without  their  own  consent ;  and  we  might  as  well 
say,  that  treaties  with  monarchies,  and  still  more 
such  references  as  we  ourselves  have  repeatedly 
made  to  them,  must  endanger  the  freedom  of  our 
institutions.  Such  a  court,  guided  by  a  common 
code,  and  responsible  to  the  whole  world  for  the 
rectitude  of  its  adjudications,  could  not  be  half  so 
dangerous  as  those  kings  and  autocrats  whom  we 
have  occasionally  selected  as  umpires.  Yet  who 
has  ever  dreamed  of  the  least  danger  to  our  gov 
ernment  from  such  references  ? 

1  But  the  Congress,  after  all.  would  be  powerless.' 
History  and  reason  alike  refute  the  assertion.  The 
experiment  has  already  been  made  in  a  variety  of 
ancient  and  modern  cases :  and  the  general  result 
justifies  the  belief,  that  such  a  tribunal  as  we  pro 
pose,  would  eventually  put  an  end  forever  to  the 
wars  of  Christendom.  The  Amphictyonic  Council 
of  Greece,  composed  of  delegates  from  each  of  its 
states,  and  empowered  to  examine  and  decide  all 
their  disputes,  did  much  to  preserve  peace  between 
them  for  a  long  series  of  ages  ;  and,  though  unable, 
in  times  so  barbarous  and  warlike,  to  keep  the 
sword  continually  in  its  scabbard,  still  it  must  have 
saved  rivers  of  blood.  The  Achaean  League  did 
the  same,  and  was  often  solicited,  even  by  foreign 
nations,  to  act  as  the  arbiter  of  their  disputes.  We 
21 


242  SUBSTITUTES    FOR    WAR. 

might  also  quote  almost  every  government  in  Eu 
rope  as  a  virtual  illustration  of  this  principle ;  for 
Austria,  France,  Great  Britain,  and  all  the  leading 
states  of  Christendom,  kept  for  the  most  part  in 
domestic  peace  for  centuries,  are  each  a  cluster  of 
small  tribes  or  baronies,  so  long  associated  under  one 
head  as  to  have  lost,  in  some  cases,  their  original 
distinction  as  independent  principalities.  Aus 
tria  and  Great  Britain  are  obvious,  striking  exam 
ples  ;  and  the  fact  that  the  three  kingdoms  of  the 
latter,  and  the  numerous  principalities  of  the  for 
mer,  are  preserved  in  amity  by  the  general  govern 
ment  common  to  them  all,  goes  far  to  prove  the 
efficacy  of  our  principle.  This  principle  has  like 
wise  kept  peace  between  our  own  states  the  greater 
part  of  a  century,  and  between  the  confederated 
cantons  of  Switzerland  for  more  than  five  centuries. 
Even  the  occasional  congresses  or  conferences,  so 
frequently  held,  during  the  last  two  centuries, 
between  the  leading  powers  of  Europe,  as  to  average 
one  every  four  years,  have  seldom  failed  either  to 
preserve  or  restore  peace.  Not  that  they  have 
always  been  completely  successful ;  but  they  have 
fully  evinced  the  efficacy  of  the  principle,  and 
added  strong  confirmation  to  the  hope  of  an  event 
ual  confederacy  of  all  Christendom  under  a  con 
gress  or  court,  that  shall  keep  its  members  in 
constant  and  perpetual  peace.  If  experiments  so 
partial,  and  under  circumstances  comparatively  so 
unfavorable,  have  still  accomplished  so  much  even 
for  pagan  or  half-christianized  nations ;  what  may 
we  not  expect  from  a  tribunal  perfect  as  the  highest 
wisdom  of  modern  times  can  make  it,  cheerfully 
recognized  by  the  whole  civilized  world,  and  en 
forced  by  a  strong,  universal,  omnipresent  public 
Opinion  ? 

Such  a  Congress  would  remove  the  grand 


SUBSTITUTES    FOR   WAR.  243 

tives  to  war.  It  would  crush,  or  chain,  or  neutral 
ize  the  war-spirit.  It  would  make  the  warrior's 
business  odious,  and  render  it  the  chief  glory  of 
rulers,  not  to  wage  war,  but  to  preserve  unbroken, 
universal  peace.  It  would  give  a  new  direction  to 
the  energies  of  all  Christendom,  and  turn  the  ambi 
tion  of  princes  and  statesmen  into  peaceful  chan 
nels.  It  would  sweep  away  the  grand  nurseries  of 
war,  by  superseding  all  war-establishments.  It 
would  eventually  convert  standing  armies  into 
handfuls  of  police-men,  and  leave  war-ships  to  rot, 
arsenals  to  moulder,  and  fortifications  to  crumble 
into  ruins.  Here  are  the  chief  combustibles  of 
war ;  and,  when  these  are  all  removed,  it  will  be 
well-nigh  impossible  to  kindle  its  fires  on  any 
emergency. 

Such  a  Congress,  moreover,  would  obviate  nearly 
all  the  occasions  of  war.  These  are  now  found  in 
points  of  national  honor ; — in  sudden  bursts  of 
passion  among  rulers ; — in  occasional  outrages  of 
officers  or  citizens  ; — in  clashing  views,  customs,  or 
interests; — in  temporary  misconceptions  and  ani 
mosities  ; — in  claims  for  redress  denied,  or  unduly 
delayed ; — in  mutual  jealousies,  suspicions  and 
fears.  Most  of  these  difficulties,  such  a  tribunal 
would  either  prevent,  or  easily  settle ;  and  for  the 
rest,  it  would  provide  an  antidote  sufficient  to 
supersede  ninety-nine  wars  in  a  hundred. 

Nay ;  would  not  this  grand  expedient  suffice  for 
the  worst  emergency  ?  It  would  make  nations, 
just  like  the  members  of  a  Christian  church,  cease 
to  think  of  settling  their  disputes  by  arms.  They 
could  never  draw  the  sword  at  the  outset ;  and  the 
long  delay  occasioned  by  an  appeal  to  the  Congress, 
and  by  subsequent  preparations  for  conflict,  would 
give  ample  time  for  passion  to  cool,  and  reason  to 
gain  such  an  ascendency  as  she  seldom,  if  ever,  had 


244  CONCLUDING    APPEALS. 

in  any  declaration  of  war  by  men.  If  the  parties 
disliked  the  first  decision,  they  might  claim  repeated 
hearings ;  and  every  new  trial  would  create  new 
obstructions  in  the  way  of  appealing  to  the  sword. 
But  why  suppose  such  a  tribunal  powerless  for 
the  preservation  of  peace  ?  Because  it  would  wear 
no  crown,  wield  no  sword,  hold  no  purse  ?  Such 
logic  mistakes  the  age.  Opinion  is  now  the  mis 
tress  of  the  world.  Her  voice  could  light  or 
quench  the  fires  of  a  thousand  battle-fields.  It 
changed  the  government  of  France  in  a  day.  and 
reformed  the  parliament  of  England  without  blood 
shed.  It  made  us  free.  It  once  marshalled  all 
Europe  in  the  cms  ides.  It  called  up  the  demon- 
spirits  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  sent  hurricane 
after  hurricane  of  war  howling  in  wrath  over  the 
fairest  portions  of  Christendom.  All  this  it  has 
done  ;  and,  when  embodied  in  the  grand  Areopagus 
of  the  world,  would  it  then  be  powerless  ? 


CHAPTER    IY. 


CONCLUDING    APPEALS. 

IT  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  the  claims  of 
this  cause  ;  and  voices  from  the  past,  the  present 
and  the  future,  from  time  and  eternity,  from  earth 
and  from  heaven,  are  calling  aloud  for  a  prompt, 
vigorous  use  of  the  means  requisite  to  exorcise  the 
war-spirit  from  Christendom,  to  bring  the  custom 
of  war  under  the  ban  of  its  entire  population,  and 
form  everywhere  such  a  public  sentiment  as  shall 
constrain  nations  to  employ,  as  they  could  if  they 


CONCr.TIDJNG    APPEALS.  245 

would,  pacific  expedients  alone  for  the  settlement 
of  all  tlieir  disputes. 

For  such  a  result,  means  are  obviously  indispen 
sable.  The  moral  suasion  of  the  gospel,  the  power 
of  Christian  truth  and  love,  must  be  applied  long 
and  well  to  this  custom.  Light  must  be  poured 
upon  it  from  reason  and  history  ;  its  enormous  guilt 
must  be  set  forth  in  the  full  blaze  of  revelation  ;  its 
immeasurable  evils  must  be  spread  as  far  as  possi 
ble  before  every  class  in  the  community  ;  and  such 
a  process  of  exposure  must  be  continued,  until  the 
mass  of  minds  in  every  Christian  land  shall  come  to 
regard  this  relic  of  a  bloody  and  barbarous  paganism 
with  a  portion  of  God's  own  unmingled  abhorrence, 
and  call  in  thunder-tones  upon  rulers  to  settle  their 
quarrels  without  the  countless  crimes  and  miseries 
of  war. 

But  who  shall  use  these  means  ?  Surely  the  fol 
lowers  of  Christ ;  for  God  has  chosen  them  as  his 
special  co-workers  in  every  cause  like  this.  In  his 
gospel  he  has  furnished  means  the  most  effectual 
for  the  permanent  peace  of  our  world,  and  prom 
ised  in  due  time  to  render  them,  if  rightly  used, 
completely  successful.  As  children  of  the  God  of 
peace,  as  disciples  of  the  Prince  of  peace,  this 
cause  is  eminently  their  own  ;  and,  if  they  do  not 
lead  its  van,  they  are  recreant  to  their  high  and 
sacred  obligations.  Had  they  from  the  first  done 
their  whole  duty  on  this  subject,  war  would  long 
ago  have  vanished  from  Christendom  ;  and,  would 
they  now  do  what  they  might  and  should,  this  cus« 
torn  would  cease  ere  long  from  every  Christian  land, 
and  eventually  from  the  whole  earth.  And  are  they 
not  responsible  to  God  for  what  they  might  do,  if 
they  would? 

Still  greater  is  the  responsibility  of  Christian 
ministers  as  leaders  of  the  church.  Their  influence 
21* 


246  CONCLUDING    A 

is  proverbial.  Their  character,  their  office,  their 
relations  to  society,  all  arm  them  with  a  vast 
amount  of  moral  power.  They  speak  in  God's 
name,  on  God's  day,  from  God's  word.  Their  influ 
ence  is  well-nigh  omnipresent  in  every  Christian 
community.  Almost  every  mind  is  open  to  their 
appeals.  They  touch  the  great  main-springs  of 
society,  and  hold  in  their  hands  the  chief  engines 
of  moral  power.  If  they  would  all  unite  as  one 
man,  concentrate  the  full  weight  of  their  influ 
ence  against  war,  how  soon  would  it  melt  away,  like 
dew  before  the  rising  sun;  from  every  land  blessed 
with  the  light  of  the  gospel !  And  will  ambassa 
dors  of  the  Prince  of  peace  refuse  or  neglect  any 
longer  to  do  their  whole  duty  on  this  subject  ? 
Will  they  not  preach  upon  it,  and  lead  their  people 
to  pray,  contribute  and  labor  for  this  blessed  cause  I 

The  press,  too,  must  be  fully  enlisted  in  its  be- 
lialf.  Its  ten  thousand  tongues  must  be  made  to 
speak  in  the  ear  of  every  reading  community,  and 
pour  forth  a  ceaseless  stream  of  facts,  arguments 
and  appeals,  to  illustrate  the  sin  and  curse  of  war, 
and  the  duty,  the  glory,  and  the  blessedness  of 
peace.  Would  to  God  that  editors,  and  writers  for 
the  press,  and  others  who  have,  or  might  have,  in 
fluence  over  it,  would  unite  to  bring-  this  mighty 
engine  into  frequent,  habitual,  earnest  advocacy  of 
this  cause.  No  war  can  come,  where  the  press  is 
free,  without  first  obtaining  its  permission  ;  and  it 
is  in  the  power  of  newspapers  and  other  periodicals 
alone,  if  fully  united  for  the  purpose,  to  insure  the 
permanent  peace  of  all  Christendom.  An  enviable 
power,  but  an  awful  responsibility  ! 

Still  more,  if  possible,  do  we  expect  from  teach 
ers.  Their  influence  is  universal ;  they  are  scat 
tering  everywhere  the  seeds  of  character ;  and 
hence  every  college,  and  every  professional  semi- 


CONCLUDING   APPEALS.  247 

nary,  every  common  and  Sabbath  school,  every  fire 
side  in  Christendom,  ought  to  become  a  nursery  of 
peace,  to  train  up  everywhere  such  a  generation  of 
peace-makers  as  would  spontaneously  keep  the  peace 
of  the  world. 

Nor  do  we  depend  less  upon  the  aid  of  women. 
As  mothers  and  teachers,  they  are  the  chief  educa 
tors  of  mankind  ;  they  have  access  in  childhood  to 
every  mind  under  circumstances  peculiarly  favora 
ble  ;  they  cast  the  mould  of  society  through  the 
world  ;  they  may,  under  God,  make  its  character 
Very  much  what  they  please  ;  and,  would  they  stamp 
upon  every  young  mind  under  their  care  a  deep,  in 
delible  impression  of  peace,  war  must  of  necessity 
cease  with  the  very  next  generation  thus  trained. 
Daughter  of  God  !  there  is  hardly  a  relation  in  life 
where  you  cannot  serve  the  cause  of  peace.  Are 
you  a  wife  1  You  can  mould,  more  or  less,  your 
husband's  habits  of  thinking  on  this  subject.  Are 
you  a  mother  1  You  can  train  your  children  to  a 
love  of  peace,  and  a  deep,  habitual  abhorrence  of 
war.  You  may,  if  you  will,  diffuse  the  principles 
of  peace  through  the  whole  circle  of  your  relatives 
and  acquaintances.  Are  you  a  teacher  in  a  Sabbath 
or  any  other  school  ?  You  can  impress  your  views 
of  peace  upon  the  minds  of  your  pupils,  and  infuse 
your  spirit  into  their  hearts.  Do  you  write  for  the 
press  ?  You  can  there  plead  this  cause  with  an 
eloquence  all  your  own. 

There  ought  to  be  a  general  rally  of  the  good  for 
the  support  of  this  cause,  by  the  use  of  such 
means  as  are  essential  to  success.  Let  them  use 
these  means  aright,  and  God  will  not  long  withhold 
his  blessing.  Let  the  gospel,  wherever  preached, 
be  rightly  applied  to  this  custom  ;  let  the  press 
be  freely  enlisted  in  behalf  of  this  cause ;  let 
preachers  of  the  gospel  enforce  its  pacific,  just  as 


248  CONCLUDING   APPEALS. 

they  do  any  of  its  other  truths  ;  let  Christians  of 
every  name  come  up  to  this  work  as  one  man,  and 
put  forth  their  utmost  energies ;  let  associations,  if 
necessary,  be  formed,  and  scores  of  selected  advo 
cates  plead,  and  the  friends  of  humanity  all  rally 
with  their  gifts,  and  prayers,  and  personal  efforts ; 
let  books,  and  tracts,  and  pamphlets,  and  periodi 
cals,  full  of  stirring  facts,  and  logic  on  fire,  be  scat 
tered  far  and  wide  in  every  city  and  town,  in  every 
village,  hamlet,  and  habitation  ;  let  every  church, 
every  Sabbath  and  common  school,  every  academy 
and  college,  every  seminary  of  learning,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  every  fire-side  in  Christen 
dom,  become  a  nursery  of  peace,  to  train  up  a  gene 
ration  of  peace-makers ; — let  all  these  hold  up  war 
before  every  class  in  the  community,  as  a  giant 
offender  against  God,  as  the  master-scourge  of  our 
world  ;  and  could  this  custom  long  stand  before 
guch  an  array  of  influences  ? 

We  have  the  strongest  encouragement.  The 
promises  of  God  render  the  ultimate  prevalence  of 
peice  over  the  whole  earth  absolutely  certain.  His 
providence  is  also  enlisting  in  its  behalf  the  best 
and  mightiest  influences  of  the  world,  and  giving 
unexpected  efficacy  to  the  means  thus  far  used  in 
this  cause.  How  little  has  hitherto  been  done  for 
it — only  a  few  thousand  dollars  expended  annually 
throughout  Christendom !  Yet,  with  this  mere 
pittance  of  money  and  effort,  have  we  already 
reached  results  vastly  important,  and  prospects  still 
more  cheering.  In  no  cause  has  so  much  been  ac 
complished  with  such  slender  means.  Mark  some 
of  the  acknowledged  results.  Our  own  country 
has  been  saved  from  several  wars  that  threatened  it 
(1846) ;  the  general  peace  of  Europe  has,  for  a 
wonder,  been  preserved  more  than  thirty  years  ; 
public  sentiment  on  this  subject  is  widely  different 


CONCLUDING    APPEALS.  249 

from  what  it  was  even  at  the  beginning  of  the  pres 
ent  century ;  difficulties  which  would  once  have 
plunged  nations  in  blood,  are  now  adjusted  with 
scarce  a  thought  of  resorting  to  arms  ;  negotiation, 
reference  and  mediation,  are  actually  taking  the 
place  of  war,  and  gradually  effacing  the  traditional 
belief  of  its  necessity ;  the  leading  cabinets  of 
Christendom  seem  disposed  to  adopt  these  substi 
tutes  as  their  settled,  permanent  policy ;  and  this 
course,  if  continued  only  half  a  century  longer, 
will  probably  supersede  in  time  the  whole  war  sys 
tem,  by  accustoming  nations  to  settle  their  disputes 
in  essentially  the  same  way  that  individuals  now  do 
theirs. 

Say  not  '  there  is  no  need  of  special  efforts  in  this 
cause.'  If  war  has  been  for  so  many  ages  pouring 
over  the  whole  earth  a  deluge  of  evils  ;  if  it  is  still 
the  chief  scourge  and  terror  of  our  race  ;  if  it  is 
at  this  moment  taxing  Christendom  nearly  one 
thousand  millions  of  dollars  every  year  for  its  sup 
port  even  in  peace  ;  if  it  is  continually  liable,  like 
a  pent-up  volcano,  to  pour  forth  a  burning  torrent 
of  woes  upon  the  world  ;  is  there  no  call  for  special 
endeavors  to  hold  in  check  this  mammoth  evil? 

Tell  us  not  to  rely  upon  the  gospel  without  an  ap 
plication  of  its  pacific  principles.  Will  medicine  not 
taken  ever  cure  disease  ?  No ;  you  must  apply 
even  the  best  remedy,  before  it  can  effect  a  cure. 
Is  the  gospel  an  exception  to  this  law  of  common 
sense  ?  Can  it  cure  any  evils  to  which  it  is  never 
applied  ?  The  gospel  is,  indeed,  the  only  effectual 
antidote  to  war  ;  but  we  insist  on  a  right  applica 
tion  of  its  pacific  principles  to  the  case.  It  has 
never  been  thus  applied  ;  and  the  mistake  lies  in 
supposing  that  the  gospel,  as  hitherto  received  by 
Christians,  will  abolish  this  custom.  The  nations 
of  Christendom  are  the  most  notorious  fighters  on 


250  CONCLUDING    APPEALS. 

earth,  and  its  standing  armies  have  increased  in  a 
single  century  from  half  a  million  to  three  millions 
— -six  hundred  per  cent. !  Can  such  a  process  ever 
bring  war  to  an  end  ? 

'  But  you  need  only  make  men  real  Christians, 
arid  they  will  cease  to  fight.'  Will  they1?  Have 
they?  No  real  Christians  ever  engage  in  war! 
None  such  among  the  millions  of  standing  warriors 
now  in  Christendom  !  None  among  the  fathers  of 
our  own  revolution  !  Not  one  among  all  the  myri 
ads  who  have  fought  from  time  immemorial  in  the 
wars  of  Christendom  ? 

Perhaps  you  say,  'let  existing  agencies,  such  as 
the  church,  the  ministry,  and  the  press,  do  the  work 
for  peace,  and  thus  supersede  the  necessity  of  spe 
cial,  associated  efforts.'  Most  earnestly  do  we  wish 
they  would  ;  and  whenever  they  shall,  they  will 
take  the  matter  very  much  out  of  our  hands.  As 
yet,  however,  they  have  not  done  so  ;  and,  until  they 
do,  shall  nothing  be  done  for  peace  ?  May  we  not 
even  attempt  to  rouse  the  church  ?  She  ought  to 
have  arrested  the  ravages  of  intemperance,  and 
spread  the  gospel  over  the  whole  earth ;  but,  since 
she  did  neither,  and  gave  no  promise  of  doing  either 
very  soon,  was  it  a  superfluous,  reprehensible  ser 
vice  for  individual  volunteers,  as  they  did,  to  lead 
the  van  in  those  movements,  and  rouse  the  church 
to  her  long-neglected  duty  on  those  subjects  ?  If 
the  church  will  do  what  is  needed  in  the  cause  of 
peace,  then  let  her  do  it — the  sooner  the  better, 
and  thus  supersede  our  efforts  ;  but,  until  she  does 
this,  we  certainly  ought,  as  the  pioneers  of  temper 
ance  and  of  missions  did.  to  stimulate  her  to  her 
duty  on  this  subject,  and  rally  as  many  as  we  can 
in  special  efforts  for  the  extinction  of  war. 

Tell  us  not,  'wait  till  the  millennium  ;  when  that 
comes,  peace  will  follow  as  a  matter  of  course^ 


CONCLUDING   APPEALS.  251 

Very  true  ;  and  so  will  repentance  and  faith  follow 
equally  as  a  matter  of  course.  Bat  how?  Is  tho 
millennium  to  come  first,  and  then  all  mankind  to  be 
converted  as  one  of  its  results  ;  or  is  the  conversion 
of  the  whole  world  to  usher  in  and  to  constitute  the 
millennium  itself?  How  would  you  introduce  a 
millennium  of  repentance  ?  Solely  by  first  filling 
the  world  with  repentance — with  men  penitent  for 
their  sins.  How  a  millennium  of  faith  I  By  filling 
the  earth  with  faith — with  believers  in  Jesus.  How 
then  a  millennium  of  peace  ?  In  the  same  way ;  for 
peace,  just  like  repentance  and  faith,  must  come 
before  the  millennium,  as  one  of  its  indispensable 
harbingers,  or  along  with  the  millennium,  as  one  of 
its  inseparable  concomitants. 

Say  not,  '  ws  are  peaceable  enough ;  go  to  war 
riors  and  war  makers.'  So  we  mean  to  do  ;  but,  if 
you  are  so  pacific,  will  you  not  go  with  us,  and  help 
make  them  as  peaceable  as  yourselves  ?  We  look 
to  the  temperate  for  the  promotion  of  temperance, 
to  Christians  for  the  spread  of  Christianity  ;  and 
must  we  not  rely  in  like  manner  upon  the  professed 
friends  of  peace  to  carry  forward  this  enterprise  ? 

Away,  then,  with  all  excuses  whatsoever.  Wake 
to  the  claims  of  this  cause,  and  gird  yourself  in 
earnest  for  its  support.  Whether  minister  or  lay 
man,  high  or  low,  old  or  young,  male  or  female, 
rally,  one  and  all,  for  a  cheerful,  vigorous  prosecu 
tion  of  this  great  work.  Give  to  it  your  prayers, 
your  money,  your  time,  your  talents.  The  voice 
of  prophecy  and  of  Providence  summons  you  to  this 
high  arid  blessed  service.  The  spirit  of  the  age. 
the  wants  of  the  church  and  the  world,  demand  it. 
"  The  mighty  conquerors  of  the  past,  from  their 
fiery  sepulchres,  demand  it ;  the  blood  of  millions 
unjustly  shed  in  war,  crying  from  the  ground,  de 
mands  it:  the  voices  of  all  good  men  demand  ife 


252  CONCLUDING   APPEALS. 

We  should  lead  in  this  great  work.  To  this  should 
bend  the  patriotic  ardor  of  the  land,  the  ambition 
of  the  statesman,  the  efforts  of  the  scholar,  the  per 
vasive  influence  of  the  press,  the  mild  persuasion 
of  the  sanctuary,  the  early  teachings  of  the  school. 
Here,  in  ampler  ether  and  diviner  air,  are  untried 
fields  for  triumphs  more  exalted  and  glorious  than 
any  snatched  from  rivers  of  blood." 

0  that  the  friends  of  God  and  man  could  be  made 
to  feel  and  meet  the  high  claims  of  this  cause  ! 
There  is  none  more  worthy,  more  godlike  ;  and  in 
no  other  way  could  you,  by  a  given  amount  of 
money  and  effort,  accomplish  more  for  God's  glory 
in  the  present  and  immortal  welfare  of  mankind. 
For  its  publications,  and  agencies,  and  other  pur 
poses,  this  cause  requires  funds  as  truly  as  any 
other  one  ;  but  it  has  hitherto  received  scarce  a  tithe 
of  what  it  needs,  and  most  richly  deserves.  Will 
not  those  who  bestow  their  thousands  upon  other 
objects,  remember  this  also  ?  To  what  other  pur 
pose  could  you  better  give  a  few  hundreds  a  year 
through  life,  and  thousands  in  your  will  ?  If  you 
expect  soon  to  stand  in  judgment  before  the  God 
of  peace,  and  hope  to  spend  a  blissful  eternity  in 
mansions  prepared  for  you  by  the  Prince  of  peace, 
will  you  leave  at  death  no  memorial  of  your  regard 
for  his  cause,  or  make  before  that  hour  no  earnest 
efforts  to  echo  round  the  globe  his  own  birth-song 
of  universal  peace  and  good  will  ? 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 


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ihis  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
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Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

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DEC  27  1987 

YA  00798 


7697R3 


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